The Road To & From Perdition
by RealLuvAlways
Summary: Post D&G. Sookie and Pam roadtrip to find a blood donor for Bill. Pam gets Sookie to confront her feelings once and for all. It is the only way to escape perdition and find true happiness. The answer lies in a certain bullet from LDID. Sookie/Eric
1. Chapter 1

_**The Road Out of Perdition**_

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Disclaimer: No copyright intended. All characters are property of Charlaine Harris, and the Southern Vampire Mysteries.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Please review.

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**Chapter One**

Over the past few months, after the faery war, one thing had become absolutely certain: Bill Compton would meet his final death unless a blood relative would agree to a transfusion. Feeling responsible for his condition, Sookie would stop at nothing to make this happen--to save him. After all, it had been his "heroic" efforts that had saved her.

As you can imagine, Sookie crossing the country on a road trip--fueled by the need to find this mystery blood donor-- would be utterly inconceivable under normal circumstances. In fact, when first suggested, the idea was all but laughed at. Had anyone else come up with the plan, it wouldn't have even merited a second thought. Of course, being the stubborn one that she was, the lovely Ms. Stackhouse would not back down. And, let's face it, "normal" just didn't exist for the telepath.

Even before her own recovery permitted it, Sookie had packed her things. She was more than ready to hit the road and her resolve was unwavering. The more difficult part would undoubtedly be getting past, or rather convincing, her highly protective vampire lover/husband: Eric Northman.

To attempt such a feat, without consulting him first, would have been futile. Scratch that, it would have been dangerous, foolish, and all together something that she had desperately wanted to avoid.

The trick, then, was in how she presented the proposal. She knew that neither Eric, nor Pam, were particularly fond of the mainstreaming vamp in question. If it hadn't been for Sookie, Bill's predicament and final death would have most likely occurred with very little reaction on either of their parts. Still, Eric would know better than to outright deny her pleas. To appease the situation, Sookie suggested they make a deal. Unfortunately, for the Viking, he had failed to anticipate just how perverse his 2nd truly was.

_What a wicked little one that Sookie Stackhouse is,_ Pam had thought, laughing to herself, upon hearing Sookie's loaded request. _I cannot wait to call her out on the "high-handedness" and "gall" of this obviously contrived maneuver! How could I--in the name of everything I stand for--pass up this fabulous opportunity to teach them both a lesson? _

Without a second thought, Pam had volunteered to join Sookie--fulfilling Eric's final stipulation for an appropriate chaperone. Her disgust for Compton was irrelevant. As far as she was concerned, it was a win-win_. Mess with Eric, knock some sense into Sookie and get the flying fuck out of Louisiana. Does it get better than that?_

_..._

_Pam's POV _

Why Sookie had insisted on taking her piece of crap car was beyond me. Just being in it made me uneasy. Hell, it made me itch just thinking about it! If I had had any say, we would have been cruising in a vehicle far more congruent with my caliber. The Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren would have been my first choice, but any convertible roadster would have done the trick. But no, humble and non-opposing Sookie couldn't bear the thought of inconveniencing Eric for the extra cash. Not to mention, direct quote: "asking Bill, in his vulnerable state, would have just been indecent." I nearly lost my shit when I heard that one. "Indecent?" What does that even mean? The human is truly ridiculous in that sense.

Needless to say, it wasn't my fault we were stranded in poe-dunk Arkansas, waiting for the only mechanic around who would agree to work on a Sunday.

While we waited, Sookie did her best to explain the reason for the town's "closed on Sunday" policy. Apparently it is quite common--to "respect" the day during which God rested after having completed the Creation in six days. If you ask me, I hardly think laziness is a proper way to show respect. But what do I know?

"Oh for peat's sake, you've got to be kidding me...$300 and you won't be able to get the part until tomorrow?" I could hear Sookie repeating the bald man's words. "Fine," she huffed, handing the keys over and dismissing him, before walking in my direction.

_This had ought to be good!_ I chuckled to myself.

"Did you hear that?" Sookie questioned, when she reached my side.

I couldn't tell if she meant literally, or if she was implying some sort of irony. I answered both. "Of course." Her reaction was classic: a defeated toddler mixed with defiant teen. As much as I loved her dubious attitude, we had more important matters to tend to. "You do realize how totally fucked we are right?" I pointed out. Her reaction this time was more appropriate.

As it was, we had only driven three and a half hours. The nearest vampire friendly hotel--the one we were supposed to be checking into at this very moment--was in Memphis. That was nearly two hours away by car.

"We should call Eric..." She started to say, whipping out her bright red cell phone.

"Are you mental?" I caught her hand before she could dial. "Eric is the last person we are calling! I'd rather die by sunrise a million times over before incurring his wrath. He obviously hasn't figured out I allowed this madness of taking such an unreliable car, yet. Otherwise, I swear he'd have already flown here and ripped me a new asshole! You really don't appreciate the depths of leniency he allows you." I scoffed off, angrily, knowing I'd soon be forced to sleep in the filthy dirt of this shit bag town.

Before I knew it, Sookie had meandered over to me. Her appearance suggested two things: 1) she was sorry and 2) she was worried. Her reasoning I didn't not know, but I was sure to find out soon, whether I wanted to or not.

"I'm sorry," she said. Yep I figured that. "I'm just worried..." Yep, and that too. "...about Bill." Wasn't expecting that! "It's just, he saved me...he's dying right now because of me... and I know Eric would rather him be that way."

What was this woman going on about? I was more than baffled by her logic. Was she serious? My master had sworn to protect Bill, with his own life, while he was rendered incapable. I tried to argue against it, the idea was simply ludicrous to me, but he was extremely firm in that decision-- something I could attribute only to his inappropriate feelings for Sookie. I didn't have to ask for further explanation.

Her following words came out like a thrashing blade. "Eric would have let him _rot_ had I been irreparable! He told me himself." She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "I guess you wouldn't understand..."

No, she was right, I didn't. I had wished for Compton's end many of times, but what she was assuming of my maker was just cruel.

"Did you expect him to congratulate Bill on his failure?" I sneered. "Because that is exactly what it would have been...had he found you 'irreparable' as you say. Do you think it was easy for Eric to let Bill accompany Niall in your rescue? To let Bill be your _hero_? No. You're a fool if you think this way! Human men...vampire men, they are all the same, they all want to be the hero. Letting pride dictate their actions. Don't you get it? It's not some romantic gesture. It's Bill's pride in himself--in his ability or inability to protect you--that compels him to sacrifice his life for yours."

I stopped for a moment, giving her a chance to respond, but she didn't.

"Eric is different." I told her, though that wasn't entirely true. "That's not to say he wouldn't risk his life for you. Trust me, that is a compulsion I've reluctantly learned to deal with."

At least that got a slight laugh out of her, which momentarily halted the leakage.

"You know, Eric could have insisted on being the one to rescue you, but he would have _never_ forgiven himself for being so selfish."

"What do you mean? I prayed that he would come..." She drifted off into her own self-pity.

"And he did come, Sookie. Did he not?"

"But..."

"Did it ever occur to you that doing so, when Bill was already there--on your scent, could have meant your life? Every second counted . As it happened, you were practically destroyed. Regardless of who came to your aide first, had you been 'irreparable' when Eric found you, all purpose would have been lost. There would have been no fight and ultimately, he would have perished right along with Bill."

"So you're saying, I missed the bigger picture?"

"Let me put it to you this way: that night Eric risked _everything...everything_ he's worked and lived for during the past 1000 years --his position as sheriff, his reputation--and for what? _You_. He risked all of that for _you_. _You_ are more important to Eric than _anything_ else. In layman's terms, he _lives_ for you."

As for her response, "umm," was all that came out of Sookie's mouth. My revelation had clearly rendered her speechless. "I don't know what to say..."

"It's not something that requires as much." I decided to leave it at that.


	2. Chapter 2Fire

**The Road to and from Perdition**

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Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of SVM...they belong to Charlaine Harris.

A/N: At first, I'd intended for this story to be a one-shot, but I just had too much to get out and it didn't make sense to do it that way. So, while this won't be nearly as long as my other fics, I anticipate atleast a good 5 chapters, with perhaps a couple supplementary one-shots. Hope you enjoy! I truly appreciate the reviews. This is my first SVM fic so the encouragment and direction is loved. Hugs!

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**Chapter Two-Fire**

Just as Randy--the burly mechanic--promised, the car was ready and waiting by sunset. It was a relief to know that they would be continuing on with their journey without further delay. At this point, the last thing she wanted to do was stay another night; her accommodations at the "Relax Inn"--the town's only motel-- had proved to be rather un-relaxing.

You really couldn't blame the motel, though. It had all the amenities one would need, and it wasn't terribly filthy. For $30 a night, it was actually quite a steal, when you add in the free cable--something Sookie was not shy to take advantage of.

Still, it didn't matter how many romantic comedies, procedural dramas, or reality shows she watched. Her mind was elsewhere; caught in a perpetual state of personal reflection. And, damn, if there was one thing Sookie Stackhouse really hated, it was opening the flood gates to self-knowledge. Over the past three years, you couldn't imagine the overflow she'd accumulated in the back of her mind, having filed countless items away for future thought. If she'd had her way, none of it would merit reconsideration. Honestly, she would have happily continued on, living in her ignorant bliss. It was easier that way. At least it had been, until yesterday when that wretched Pam had to go and ruin it for her. Now, it seemed, there wasn't anything she could trust. Every moment, every action; it all had to be scrutinized.

_Could I have been that oblivious?_ She thought to herself. _No. That naive? Maybe. That cruel? I'd like to think no, but I'm seriously starting to think otherwise._

A familiar voice rang out in her head:_ "Had it occurred to you, that you tend to walk away when things between you and Bill become rocky? Not that I mind, necessarily, since I would be glad for you two to sever your association. But if this is the pattern you follow in your romantic attachments, I want to know now."_

_Damnit Eric, get out of my head! _She cursed herself. _He just...he should have known better...I run. That's just what I do. Apparently, I should have been more upfront. But, in my defense, I really didn't know back then. Ugh._

Sookie found her way to the patch of dirt that Pam had called home the past 10 hours took a seat next. Despite, her frustration, she had remembered to bring the change of clothes and two bottles of True Blood that Pam had requested. It wouldn't be much longer, there was barely a hint of sunlight falling over the horizon.

...

**Sookie POV**

We'd been on the road for about an hour before either of us spoke. It wasn't that we were particularly upset with each other, though I may have begged to differ, we were more so enthralled within our own thoughts. At least, I know I had been. Maybe if I just went ahead and asked...

"Pam," I started. "If your house caught on fire and you had only 30 seconds to grab your things and get out, what would you take?"

The question seemed to both confused and amused Pam. She waited for a minute and then turned her gaze onto me.

"I'm assuming this is one of those hypothetical conundrums you humans like to use as evidence of a greater meaning?" She cooed. "Because, as you well know, 30 seconds to a vampire is a rather un-daunting amount."

"Okay, fine..." I huffed. "If you could take only _one_ item, what would it be? That better?"

Without hesitation this was the answer I heard: "well, I suppose I'd grab my iPhone. It holds invaluable information, and I must admit, it is quite sophisticated for a piece of technology."

"Your cell phone?" I balked, shaking my head in disbelief. She had to be joking. A cell phone could be replaced in less than 24 hours--Eric had proven that after he'd destroyed mine the night of the takeover. Why on earth would you worry about that? "Unbelievable." I told her. "You are just like the guy in the movie! I mean, isn't there something, a photograph or piece of jewelry..._anything_ that you couldn't live without for sentimental purposes?"

Pam threw her head away from the road in one swift--and mightily disturbing--motion. She was completely puzzled, but at the same time she was...annoyed? Perhaps.

"Sentimental? Sookie, dear, I am Vampire. These silly games you play, they do not hold the same significance."

What she was trying to say--without coming out and saying it-- was that because she was a vampire, her feelings didn't matter. In other words, she was immune to "human" impulses.

_Sure, keep thinking that_, _Pam._ _Whatever gets you to sleep at day..._

I laughed at my own irony, but I knew better. Eric had told me on more than one occasion that he didn't like "having feelings." It made them vulnerable but it was possible. Yes, I knew as sure as I knew my own name that Pam was not impervious to this sensation. She consulted Dear Abby for peet's sake!

"I think they do." I sighed.

It made me think back to the movie last night--Leap Year-- when the woman's fiancé grabbed everything on his desk besides the picture frame. How horribly painful that must have been; to know how little you mattered in the eye's of the man you loved--the man you thought loved you. It broke my heart, because, in a lot of ways the lead actress, Anna, reminded me of myself: independent, brave..but confused. Of course, she had the big city, pampered lifestyle to go with it--her "fairytale"--but in the end that didn't matter.

As a little girl, I had always imagined my life: fall in love with my high-school sweetheart, get married, have tons of kids...live happily ever after. Back then it seemed so simple. Then again, I hadn't fully understood the complexities of the world, yet. I also hadn't had the pleasure of dating a human man--with their dirty, despicable minds, all laid out in front of me--thanks to my curse. By the time Bill had walked into my life, I'd all but forgotten about my fairytale. So, I guess, he sort of reignited that desire in me. Sure, I wouldn't be able to have the white picket fence I'd always dreamed of, but he opened my world up to the idea of love--of being loved.

I can't regret my time with him, though it caused me more heartache than I'd known possible. If it hadn't been for Bill, I would have been lost within myself for an eternity. The thing is, I'd always loved him a heck of a lot more than he did me. I made excuses for him. I had even tried to convince myself that his indifference was purely the result of a magical compulsion Lorena had had on him, or an unfortunate allegiance to his queen. But I knew better. After watching that movie, it all made sense. Bill would go back for his prized bible--the one that contained his descendents--and the database. I knew that with such certainty it burned my insides with shame. I never was and never would be first in Bill Compton's heart.

"Well, then, what would _you_ take?" Pam asked me out of the blue, trying to sound as though she cared. "That is what truly matters, now isn't it?"

So observant that Pam. She was right. And, it wasn't like I hadn't already thought of that very question. In fact, I'd known the answer immediately--my house had been on fire before, you know. So, I knew exactly what I'd rush to save. But, unlike Pam, I wasn't Vampire and my choice would be seen as "sentimental." Hell, it was sentimental--that's the point!

In the movie, Anna realized she didn't have anything worth saving. I did. Saying it out loud would be worse than standing naked in a room full of strangers. I just wouldn't do it. Not here. Not now.

"Everything that is dear to me, I keep in my bedside table." I explained coyly, hoping that tidbit would be enough to hold her over.

To my delight, Pam didn't say a word. She simply smiled before turning her focus back onto the road ahead.

...

It didn't take long for my mind to wander back into dangerous self-knowledge territory. My great-grandfather's parting words: _"the vampire is not a bad man and he loves you_," replayed in my head as though it were a record stuck on repeat. If I'd been alone I would have screamed out at the top of my lungs.

_What a stupid thing to say to me before leaving! How was I not supposed to question who and what he meant? He knew there were two vampires in my life didn't he? Wait...did he? Wait...were there?_

Ever since that day, I had always assumed yes. But, looking back, I couldn't help but question that faulty judgment. Niall was wise. Maybe the wisest person I'd ever known, short of Gran and on some occasions Eric--though I would never admit it. His ego was large enough already, without my help. But, Niall, he wouldn't have made such an ambiguous remark without reason. So what was his reason?

_Oh, if only gran were still around. _I wallowed in my sorrows_. She'd know what to make of all this. And, she wouldn't judge me for having been involved with not one but two vampires--and a weretiger. I wonder what she'd have thought of Eric or Quinn. Neither of them had the southern charm that Bill had. Would that matter to her? I'd like to think not._

"Sookie, I think you ought to be the one to call Eric tonight." Pam interrupted, pulling me back to reality. "He was extremely anxious last night when I couldn't produce you." She smiled.

"Oh...yea. Sure, no problem."

"One more thing." Pam continued, looking nervous. "Due to our--well _my_--poor judgment, we are to attend the American Vampire League's Annual Gala tomorrow night."

"What the hell is a _gala_?" I wailed, fearing for the worst.

"An especially lavish, usually festive, social event." Pam explained gleefully. "You know, you really amaze me sometimes...most of you southern belles live for occasions like this."

"Well, I'm not them and I don't care for over pretentious--word of the day--dealings. Plus, I haven't a thing to wear!"

"Eric has already arranged the necessary details, including appropriate attire..."

_Of course he has,_ I thought sarcastically. _When doesn't he take the opportunity to get me into some ridiculously expensive garment. Though, that cranberry coat had turned out to be a real favorite. So..._

"Is this really a good idea? I mean...I know back in our hood just about everyone knows I'm the telepath, bonded to Mr. tall, blond and dead, but here they won't. I'm just a regular old human, who would be getting in the way."

Pam was giving me the "I have more to say" look, with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. It scared me to death. She knew exactly where I had been going with my previous rant--that it wouldn't be safe for me to attend without Eric--and she wasn't fazed in the least.

"Eric is on his way." She caressed my shoulder gently, enjoying my irritation entirely too much. "Don't worry. He'll be accompanying you..."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ** I want to give a special thank you to Stacey (RubySun03) my new and fabulous Beta. She's been a huge help and deserves credit for keeping me in I hope you all enjoy this chapter--things are finally starting to heat up. Please review...I'm new to the SVM world, so your thoughts are very much appreciated. Hugs!

**Chapter Three**

By the time Sookie and I made it into the city limits of St. Louis, I could tell it was nearly dawn--my body was practically screaming out for me to take cover. I could tell that my human companion, sitting next to me with a fixed gaze, was just as anxious as I was. Though, I have to admit, she did a fine job of concealing her worries. I had the good sense to recognize she was mostly doing so out of guilt. After all, had she allowed us to drive in a vehicle capable of reaching speeds over 50 mph, we wouldn't have had this problem in the first place.

As we became closer, I steadied myself on the knowledge that Eric was a proactive man. He would have anticipated this issue of timing and made certain that the hotel staff received us in an expedient manner. All I had to do was get this piece of junk car into the underground parking lot; Sookie would handle the rest. That was part of the reason I liked Sookie so much--she was fierce, loyal and at her best under pressure. Of course, her knack for tormenting my master also aided in my affections. Just the thought of it would normally send me into a fit of laughter. The look on his face when I relayed Sookie's message that he was to "fly a kite" was just priceless. Honestly, I don't think I will ever grow tired of that one. Yes, where Sookie was concerned, I could always count on a good chuckle at Eric's expense.

Considering Eric would be responsible not only for his bonded's gala attire, but mine also, I prayed that he had forgotten my eagerness in accompanying Sookie on this trip. It truly had turned out to be quite the "disaster," as Eric so generously pointed out to me last night. Had it not been for my brilliant suggestion--to use the gala as an excuse for him to tag along--I might still be in the "dog house." And, knowing my master to be dangerously creative, when it came to his punishments, I could have literally ended up suffering among the drooling class.

If I were lucky, I would awake tomorrow to find a REDUX Charles Chang-Lima ensemble--preferably the one I'd been eyeing for the past month. It was splendid, really; crisp white floral halter, paired with a long, onyx cumberbund skirt. It epitomized my "sophisticated style," which I learned from InStyle magazine means: "_feminine but not frilly, seductive but not showy, you live for luxury but are allergic to bling. Grace Kelly is your ideal, and Michael Kors, Ralph Lauren and Carolina Herrera are your sartorial guardian angels_."

I was certain Eric had overheard my meltdown--provoked by that heinous Nevada comptroller, Sandy. "Ms. Ravencroft, from now on all 'unnecessary' purchases are to be withheld...we cannot afford to be frivolous in this economy," she had scolded me after intercepting a package of perfectly "necessary" Prada pumps.

_How dare she monitor my online shopping in the name of practicality! Blasphemy, I tell you...blasphemy! If I had the chance I'd stake her myself, with those very heels!_

Fortunately, Eric shared my appreciation for the finer things. He understood the need for great pumps, among other things, and the gala provided the perfect opportunity to justify said luxury items. Perhaps I should be thanking frumpy ol' Sandy, for her part in revving up my anticipation. At this point, I could almost feel the oversized rosette of the top, I was so excited. I maintain it was the thought of that dress alone that kept me focused enough to make it safely to the hotel.

...

"Dracula's Castle," I read the name of the hotel in awe--most likely a vampire rip off of Caesar's Palace. Though, rip off or not, it was incredible all the same. I'd never seen a real, bona fide castle before--even if this wasn't technically authentic--it was about the closest I'd expect to see in my lifetime.

For a second, I wished Pam hadn't needed to run off so quickly. I wanted to drill her on the quality of this replication. I'd spent a considerable amount of time investigating all things Vlad Tepes, before going to Fangstasia for Dracula Night, but I was by no means an expert. And, due to the unfortunate event with the imposter-Vlad, I had purposely tried to rid my mind of anything related to the Impaler. It was for that reason, I now stood facing this magnificent fortress of vampirism without the slightest inclination of its significance.

From my scarce readings on architecture--I much preferred a hot and heavy romance-- I associated the elegant, graceful structure with a blend of Gothic and Baroque influence. It's white walls, made of rock and stone, stood out against the reddish brown wooden framing. The building stood much taller than its three floors would suggest, highlighted by four cylindrical towers, each adorned with tiled roofing.

To enter the lobby, I had to walk across an enormous draw bridge. It reminded me of the castle from the Disney movie Beauty and the Beast. I must have watched that movie a million times. Belle had always been my favorite of the "princesses," because she was most like me--or so I wished to believe. She was condemned for being "different"--the towns people gossiped of her peculiar ways and penchant for reading. In that sense, I could definitely relate. She was also good-natured and honest...and of course, an insanely beautiful virgin who lived happily ever after with her prince. I tried to live up to the former. The latter, that part was the dream--the non-reality--one that I never envisioned could happen to me. I guess that's why my current situation seemed so ironic.

Speaking of, the beast himself was somewhere within these very walls. That damned blood bond. I could feel him even now when he was dead to the world. It wasn't an overwhelming feeling, like it can be if we're near and he's awake, it was more like a dull twinge in the pit of my stomach. I've often wondered if it is the same for him, but I'm too chicken shit to ask.

I slowly made my way to the check-in counter. All the ornate furnishings had captured my attentions long enough. I was tired and needed a bed. The concierge, Tyler, was quick to help me, even offering to carry my little suitcase up to the room. I hoped that his generosity was only out of common courtesy--I was a woman and there were no elevators--but I suspected Eric had instructed the staff to be extra accommodating. In other words: kiss my ass because otherwise my big, bad, vampire boyfriend--or whatever he was--will have a conniption fit, which will most definitely not end in your favor. Ugh. I hated when he did that kind of shit, and he knew it! Pompous ass!

Out of sympathy, I tried to explain to Tyler that this treatment was unnecessary. He didn't seem to take my word for it, though. Figures. I couldn't blame him. From his thoughts, I learned that he was only 17 years old and desperately needed this job to pay off hospital bills. I wanted to swoop in and play fairy godmother, as Claudine had done for me, but I didn't have the means. Right now, all I could do was promise not to be the cause of his termination.

To make matters worse, I soon found out that Eric had insisted on me having a suite--the Vlad Tepes suite. I was not at all happy with this show of monetary exuberance, but given his fascination with the famed Dracula, I didn't protest. Instead, I casually made my exit and headed towards the stairs.

Once inside the gigantic suite, I finally started to relax. As outrageous as it was to be standing in such lavish quarters, I was content after seeing the bed. From having to deal with the car drama, I had been up for nearly 24 hours; all I wanted to do was rest. I opened the French doors to the bedroom and practically fell into the mattress--opting not to get under the covers out of pure laziness. Within seconds, I was asleep.

It wasn't until I heard the telephone ringing next to me on the nightstand that I awoke. I knew from my groggy state and lack of comprehension that I'd been deep in my dream state. Blindly, I reached for the receiver.

"Hello?" I answered, tentatively, not knowing who would be calling at this time of day.

"Mrs...Ms..." The woman on the other end was struggling, and I knew it was because the reservation was under Mr. Northman. He must not have specified how to address me.

_Stupid vampires and their titles!_

"It's Sookie, just call me Sookie."

"Okay...well, Sookie, my name is Roslyn. I was just calling to confirm your three o'clock appointment here at the spa."

I was stunned. _What was she talking about? Spa appointment? I hadn't arranged such a thing. I never would. _I started panicking to myself, with no clue what was going on. I quickly scanned the room, settling on a garment bag hanging by the door. It all made sense. It had one large red ribbon tied around it. _Dammit Eric!_

"I'm sorry. Could you hold on a sec?" I asked nicely, making my way over to the bag. As usual, there was a card. "Actually, would you mind if I called you back?"

"Sure. No problem."

I hung up the phone in a fury, ripping the card out of the envelope. I was about ready to ream Eric a new one, but then I read it:

_My Dearest Sookie,_

_Please do me the honor of wearing this dress tonight. It would please me a great deal. The color will bring out your beautiful eyes and the bodice will accentuate your perfect bosoms. It seems as though it were made specially, for you--not literally, do not worry._

_Also, I have arranged for you to get your hair and nails done at the spa, if you would like. Someone will call to confirm the time. However, it is ultimately your decision whether or not you take me up on this offer. I only seek to make you happy._

_Until tonight, lover._

_E_

There was absolutely no hope for me after that. None at all. I was on the brink of becoming a blithering, hysterical mess. I could literally feel the corners of my mouth turning up into a smile--and it wasn't my famous "Crazy Sookie" smile, either. I must have looked like a fool--a complete lunatic--but, I was...happy.

Trust Eric to put the perfect spin on things, so that he looked like "boyfriend of the year." I chuckled at the title, thanking my lucky stars Amelia and Tara weren't around to see this little display. I could just hear their reactions now.

"Damn Sookie! Who died and made you Queen? " Tara would ask, before pouting over the fact that her husband, JB, never her got her anything glamorous. Then, without fail, Amelia would chime in, taunting me with some obnoxiously sarcastic answer: "I'm gonna go with Tall, Blonde and Dead Sexy. Am I right, roomie? Is it your Undead Viking, _lovvver_?"

Ugh. They were relentless! I always tried my best to be discrete in such situations--you know, a lady doesn't kiss and tell--but those two were something else. I swear, there were no limits to the torture--or "girl talk" as they liked to phrase it--and they never gave up. My stubbornness was no match for their tag team efforts; I learned that the hard way. Now a days, I would just "grin and bear it, "as Gran would say.

I was still reeling in my reverie when I remembered that I hadn't even looked at the dress he'd picked out. Though, it really wasn't all that concerning. Eric had ten times better taste than I did and, of course, money was never an issue. I knew it'd be useless for me to complain, anyways. I'd tried that route before and he simply wouldn't have it.

I pulled the zipper down slowly, as if I might ruin something otherwise. I think the bag itself was nicer than most of the things in my closet--a scary sign of just how expensive this dress really was. I cringed at the thought, knowing how many nights I'd have to work at Merlotte's to pay for something like this, but eventually I got over my hesitation and pulled it out.

Jesus Christ! Shepherd of Judea! I couldn't believe my eyes. It was...words couldn't describe it, that's how beautiful it was. I almost felt ashamed to know I'd be wearing it. No one had ever accused Sookie Stackhouse of being "elegant," and that is exactly the kind of person who should wear a gown like this--not a measly ol' barmaid.

I'm sure Eric would have argued against my better judgment, bless his heart. I often wondered what he saw in me, I mean, really saw in me--besides the nice rack. Did he honestly care for me the way Pam seemed to think he did? He sure seemed to act like it at times, especially since he'd regained his memories--but so had Bill, once upon a time, and we all know how that turned out. Cut to: me brokenhearted, wandering the streets of New Orleans--not one of my prouder moments. But, Eric, he's never tried to hide anything from me, including the fact that he's mostly concerned with maintaining my desire to have sex with him. Like that was ever a problem. Ha!

I stole another look at the gown, eying the intricate crystal beading, the delicate lace appliqué and the ice blue, silk sashes that flowed across the bodice. The sweetheart neckline seemed to dip in just the right spot to show off my very best asset: the twins. Hmm, who might like that? Instinctively, my eyes fell lower. From the cinched waistline fell a flawless long skirt made of hand sewn chiffon petals. My heart skipped a beat, imagining how breathtaking I might look--say, on a dance floor, with Eric, as he effortlessly twirled me around. I had to blink a couple times, pushing aside the image, as I stepped back to take it all in once more.

One thing I was positively sure of: I wasn't going to turn down that spa day, after all; I needed all the help I could get to pull off this dress!

...

I slipped on my silver heels--the finishing touch to my outfit--and, out of habit, took one last look at myself in the mirror. There was nothing left to do at this point--Roslyn had done an amazing job--I would just have to sit anxiously until my undead escort arrived. This had to be the worst part: waiting...anticipating...dreading.

"That Viking of yours is gonna drop dead, again; you look so gorgeous," My thoughts ran back to earlier, to Roslyn's last words. The realization that I'd finally have to face Eric started to hit home. And, when it did, it came at me like a mental ton of bricks.

_Sookie...Sookie...you are such an idiot!_ I shook my head. _Was this really happening? What the hell was I thinking? A pretty dress and some nail polish were just gonna make everything better? Really, get a grip! Gran must be rolling in her grave, seeing me act a fool like this. "Stackhouse women don't depend on men, dear...they depend on us," she'd taught me that. Now why wasn't I upholding it? Was all of this just me being delusional--believing in some supernatural-human fairytale relationship? Ugh. Things were so messed up between Eric and I. Honestly, we could be on one of those horrid reality TV shows! Scratch that. Knowing him, he'd enjoy the attention way too much. Oh boy. How did I let it get to this. I am soooooo not ready to see him. Maybe I could get away before..._

Too late. There was a knock at the door. I knew it was Eric by the wave of emotions that accompanied it. _Shit, shit, shit!_ I cursed silently, stepping on my tip toes, looking through the peep hole just to be safe. Sure enough, there he was--all six foot-four inches of Scandinavian glory. I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me. And, not in the way I'd been freaking out for the past five minutes. Nope. I don't think there's a female on this planet who could look at that man and not feel a twinge of lust. He oozed sex appeal.

See that's the problem. In the end, my lust for him always betrayed my dignity. The 4 inches of wood that separated us would do nothing to tame the desire I felt, and thanks to the damn blood bond there was no hiding it. It was a lost cause. I was a lost cause.

"I know you're in there. I can feel you yearning for me." He preened, showing off that fabulous grin of his."Don't worry, I want you too, lover."

I tried to pull myself together. _How was it that just seeing him made me feel so nervous and excited at the same time?_ I took a deep breath, turned the knob and opened the door. I should have known better than to open myself up for such a visceral response. Before I knew it there were two cold and adoring hands on my shoulders and one very interested Viking staring into my eyes.

"Beautiful." He said, and I smiled back shyly. "Perfect." And then his lips were on mine, claiming me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the property--regretfully--of Charlaine Harris.**

**A/N: Just a little disclaimer. This chapter has a few extreme viewpoints, regarding a certain celebrity. It is intended to be outlandish to play up the "suburbanite" stereotype that my Pam portrays. Please know that I do not share the intense feelings--for the most part,lol--and it is intended to be illogical--much like Eric's obsession with Dracula. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. I'll admit, I thoroughly enjoyed writing such a dramatic dialogue. Actors/actresses always say those are the most fun to play and I think I learned why! Hope you like it...please let me know what you think. I live and breathe on your reviews! Hugs...**

**Chapter 4**

His lips moved with hers in therapeutic assertion, erasing the effervescent doubts that had just seconds ago plagued her . A guttural moan escaped from her mouth, as she ungracefully retreated into the moment.

...

_I could do this forever_. I thought simply, allowing his nearness--and well-practiced oral talents--to intoxicate me.

"Eric," I sighed. He had found the sensitive spot behind my ear--my shameless weakness-- and was slowly making his way down toward the crook of my neck. I could feel my pulse thicken, practically igniting itself at his touch and inviting him to take me.

I knew what he wanted; it wasn't hard to figure that out. Even if I had the ability to read vampire minds, which I don't, or wasn't keyed in on his every emotion--a la blood bond--I wouldn't have needed the extra assurance. His intentions were so transparent... so blatant, they were almost palpable to me.

It was a powerful feeling--knowing the extreme depths of my influence--and, I couldn't help but relish the knowledge. I could feel his cool breath against the delicate skin of my collarbone, while he hovered restlessly, willing my ultimate surrender into existence.

I closed my eyes and swallowed the taste of his scent with an eagerness even I had not thought possible. Whatever reservations I may have managed to harbor, up to this point, vanished in an instant. My body wanted him. I wanted him.

_What was he waiting for?_ I wondered, noticing he hadn't taken advantage of my subconscious call. He was still crouched over me in silence. The lust was killing me softly--yes, like the Fugees song from the early 90's. Great song by the way. If I hadn't been pinned down by a vampire sex-god at that very moment, I may have broke out a verse or two.

Instead, for a split second, I thought back to the night of the orgy. "Yield to me," he had commanded ever so seductively, inching closer and closer to a final submission. That scenario was strikingly similar to my current one, I realized. _Did he want me to give him permission or something?_

To my surprise, my body responded without hesitation. _If he needed a non-verbal say-so--a "bloodsucking green light," if you will--that's what he would get_. I did what any good vampire-lovin woman would do: I tilted my head to the side and offered myself to him.

Still, nothing. _And, to think I thought the gesture was fool-proof?_ I wanted to laugh it off--for my sake-- but I couldn't.

Confused and somewhat disappointed by his continued restraint, I opened my eyes. The look he was giving me was virtually unreadable. His facial features--the sparkle and softness in his eyes, the partial smile he was wearing--suggested an air of easiness. And yet, the impression I was getting from the bond was tense. He was conflicted; I could discern at least that much, but from what, I hadn't the slightest clue.

"Do you still wish to be mine...and only mine?" Eric eventually broke through my silence and asked, uncertainly. The question caught me off guard, to say the least.

"I-I ah..." Not knowing what to say I froze. _Want to rewind the clock to five minutes ago when we were kissing in blissful ignorance?_ Sarcastically, I finished the thought in my head, wanting nothing more than to escape right now. When all else failed, I resorted to my tried and true method of avoidance: distraction--by--argument.

"Eric, what is this all about?" I pulled away and demanded, irritably.

I could feel the shift in his emotions; initially there was anger...after that, apprehension...followed by, shame and guilt. _What could he possibly feel guilty about?_ I started to contemplate potential sources but was soon interrupted by his voice.

"The circumstance leading up to Bill's condition..." He was trying to be tactful, for my benefit, but I knew the "incident" he was referring to: my rescue from Neave and Lochlan. "And, my... absence," he paused, briefly, looking away to conceal the evidence of blood rimming his eyes.

He seemed to somewhat regain composure, but, at the same time, I was taken over by an unmistakable and unstoppable ache. The enormity of his pain had settled between us--a hurt that I inadvertently inflicted for selfish reasons. If he said anything after that I didn't hear it. Between all the mental flashbacks from that fateful night, my mind was running on overdrive.

_"Were you not going to give him any?" I remembered questioning Eric._

_"If you were irreparable...no, I would have let him rot."_

_"Why...He actually came to rescue me. Why get mad at him? Where were you?"_

I could vividly hear the rage in my voice as I'd spoken those last three words. It were as if I had been transplanted back into the past--to be a fly on the wall--forced to relive my own horribleness. I'd been so malicious...so unnecessarily spiteful towards him. I had hated myself for it then, and I still hated myself for it now. It wasn't his fault. Far from it. In fact, had I taken him up on his offer--to live with him in Shreveport--some, if not all, of the tragedy might have been avoided. Yet, of all people, I had blamed him. I'd implied his failure in the worst possible way--accusing him of purposely choosing to ignore my pleas-- comparing him to Bill.

I would have willingly justified his resentment after that. I had actually anticipated far worse--expected him to be furious with me--and even physically prepared myself for his wrath. Instead, just like right now, the only reaction I had gotten from him was one of dejection--former word of the day.

_"You're killing me..." He'd shuddered. "You're killing me."_

And, no matter how hard I tried, I could never forget the agony in his tone. It was as plain as day.

_How could I have been so blind? So cruel?_ I struggled to push back the flood of tears that had begun to form behind my eyes. I refused to be the cause of anymore of his suffering. This had to stop.

Grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly, I whispered the only word I knew he needed to hear: "Yours."

For the very first time, I appreciated the magnitude of our bond. I didn't have to question whether or not he understood me. The change in atmosphere told me everything I needed to know: he cared. It was unspoken; I could feel it.

...

"Gosh, Pam." Sookie gawked in my direction--finding me posted up against the wall, one foot propped up. I knew she was staring at the exposed skin of my calf, but I didn't care. "I don't know what to say..." She continued in her admiration. "You look, amazing."

_Of course_, I thought, but I let her finish complimenting me, while I marinated on the fact. After noticing Eric had joined me on the wall, I felt it best to return the favor.

"As do you, my beautiful, goddess-like human." I poured on the niceties. "You truly are the fairest of them all. My master is a very lucky vampire, indeed."

I smirked in her direction. Sookie just rolled her eyes at my flattery. _Can't say I didn't expect that._ The human was more than intolerable when it came to accepting praise, always had been. She ought to get used to it, though. When Eric chooses to honor you with admiration there's no such thing as "brushing it off."

Taking another look, I had to admit, Sookie was looking very nice. _That 1/8 fae in her bloodline was definitely doing her right!_ I had often wondered what effect closing off faery would have on those who remained. Would it diminish or strengthen the influence? Maybe I had my answer...or, perhaps it was just the dress? New make-up...highlights?

_Had she finally yielded to my master? _I smiled at the thought. _Damn I wish that I could read her mind sometimes._

I must be frank, it's not like she wasn't always a tempting little morsel of warm flesh. In the supernatural world, Sookie Stackhouse was near the equivalent of a Kennedy--the American version of royalty. Her shenanigans had really made a name for herself--and Area 5, I regret to confess--over the past two years. Still, there was something about the way her eyes lit up tonight--maybe from the color of the dress? Ice blue did do magical things on her. I'd seen her in a similar colored dress in Rhodes.

I tried increasingly harder to rid my mind of these distractions. I should be minding my own business. To be honest, I would most certainly get more legitimate work done and be much less stressed. However, Eric made it impossible to ignore their fluctuating relationship. Hence, the reason I am forced to keep up with the Sookie and Eric drama, which is utterly exhausting, not to mention frustrating. I am forever at the mercy of their obnoxious game of "will they--won't they." My only wish is that they settle this foolish "indifference" towards each other, before I go mad. _Do they have no consideration for my well-being?_

To pass the time, I decided to take part in some leisurely people watching--or should I say "vampire watching"--other than Sookie I could only smell five humans. It was a favorite past time of mine, which I had carried over from my human existence. My only complaint was that vampires are generally very mundane. Humans on the other hand were entertaining as hell. I had once sat for an entire evening on Beale Street--in Memphis, Tennessee--just to see the absurdity. It was pure comedy.

Unlike then, I regret to say, I did not expect my present audience to bring me tears of laughter, but I figured I could, at the very least, find someone worth looking at. Who knows, maybe the woman or man of my dreams is out there waiting for me. Ha!

I had made a couple passes of the room before I noticed anything peculiar. The third time around was different. It must be like they say "the third time is the charm," because what I saw, or rather felt, was sure to bring about a spectacle. What was it, you ask? Fear not, I will tell...Pam does not disappoint.

The impetus of my reaction: the two ancient vampires--one male, one female; both relatively young in human age and astonishingly beautiful--entering the room. Their magnificence was quantified by a strangely seductive air following the woman. I couldn't explain it if I tried, but I felt oddly connected to them, much like I was with Eric...just different. It was unlike anything I had ever felt from a supernatural being.

Worried I might be the only one affected by their presence, I looked to my side. To my relief, as had mine, Eric's body was tensed, his head whipped to attention, and if vampires breathed, I'd say his breath was taken away. Surprisingly, however, he did not move to protect Sookie--who might I add was acting in her usual oblivious manner.

_Eric must know them,_ I concluded. _But how? And, what in creation was this voodoo aura permeating off the oh so lovely...lady in red?_

I would have gone on, furthering my internal investigation, had Sookie not so rudely interrupted me with her laughter. _Humans_. Besides, the couple in question seemed to be staying away. _Maybe he didn't know them?_

"What's wrong guys?" Sookie asked--choking back a laugh--a bit too amused for my taste. She was far too comfortable being surrounded by vampires. "The two of you look like Mr. & Mrs. Smith, especially you Pam. You're a dead ringer for Angelina, only blonder...and more dead." She snorted at her pun, laughing almost hysterically until she heard my snarl. "And, but of course..._more lethal_." She said, smiling ear to ear.

I could tell she was trying to butter me up--on any other occasion I would have likely cracked a satisfied grin--but my ability to end lives was the only quality I cared to share with this character, played by the home-wrecking, blood-defiling hussy, Angelina Jolie.

And yet, true to form, Sookie wasn't through digging her own grave. Nope. "Ending while you were ahead" clearly wasn't in her repertoire. A shame really, for her.

"Eric you better watch out." She teased, poking him in the chest but eyeing me. "I don't think Pam's the type to settle the score sitting in a lawn chair, tossing balls around."

My eyes grew wide and fierce as her accusation settled upon me.

_Tell me she did not bring up the W Magazine spread! Of all things... _Then my conscience--whatever small portion of it remained--kicked in.

_Don't do it, Pam. Remember all the tourists you maimed for wearing Team Jolie shirts. We can't afford to eliminate customers right now. Think Prada...Gucci...Dior--driving a stake into Sandy's chest for attempting to deprive us of our beloved couture--whatever it takes!_

I tried my best to calm down. I'll admit the designer chanting had helped, slightly, but the look on my face must have said it all. I hadn't gotten this worked up since back in 2005 when...yep, Eric remembered. I could tell by the childish grin sweeping over his face. _What a cad._ Then I turned to look back at Sookie. She looked frightened.

_Good, now we're at least getting somewhere. _I assured myself. _Yes, we all know, Sookie is just a foolish twit. If she spent less time reading those Harlequin novels she adores so much and more time surfing Perez Hilton's website, she would understand. She would not have unintentionally insulted me ._

"Did I say something wrong?" Sookie asked innocently, turning back and forth between Eric and I.

_Wrong? Wrong doesn't even cover it_! That is what I wanted to say--what I would have said had Eric not been around.

Yes, I'm Team Aniston! Sue me. I might be Vampire, but any devoted, Oprah-watching, suburbanite knows who was at fault there. I was just doing my moral duty by swearing allegiance. I had tried to explain that to Eric but failed. Besides, Jennifer was a sophisticated lady, like myself; we have to stick up for our own--it's practically law! Otherwise, we'd have a bunch of maniacs like Angie--making out with brother's in public, swapping blood with disgustingly old, hick ex-hubbies, adopting tribes of foreign children--running amuck. And, don't even get me started on her "sexual philosophies." I'm no saint--by all means, I'm far from it--I get down with both sides, I like it kinky at times--and I think people should be able to do whatever the hell they want to, behind closed doors. In fact, they can do it wherever they want. As long as it's not done in vain, for the thrill of taming curiosity--like those idiotic fangbangers--or igniting a publicity trail. That's where I draw the line. Oh, and I must not forget the: allowing your four year old daughter to "dress herself" in menswear part. That poor child looks absolutely preposterous! Tom Cruise is a total, couch-jumping, nut job, but at least he makes sure his daughter looks fabulous...

Unfortunately, my master's non-verbal cues were sending out a stern warning, which I translated to mean: if you value your existence, and don't want to meet final death tonight, I suggest you let it go without making a scene.

"Well, one thing is for sure: you two deserve each other!" I sneered, turned my head away from them in disgust, as I stalked off.

...

"What the heck was that all about?" I blurted out as soon as Pam was a safe distance away from us.

Eric looked down on me with a thoughtful expression. He smiled in a way that suggested I not fret about it. Little did he know that only made me worry more.

"Eric." I pleaded. "Pam was like_ seriously_ pissed..."

"Let's just say you touched on a sensitive subject," he replied calmly. Once again, not comforting me at all. "She'll get over it, eventually. Trust me." There was a funny look in his eye, almost victorious. I didn't like it.

"And, what if she doesn't?" I asked, worriedly, trying to give him puppy dog eyes. It always worked on me. I figured it was worth a shot. No luck. Instead, he exploded in a round of belly laughs. _Great. Just great._ _This obviously provided him with some sort of sick and twisted glimpse down memory lane._

"She will," he said again, holding back his laughter just long enough to speak his piece. "But, just in case, you might want to track down a stray "TEAM ANISTON" tee.

"What?" I looked at him shocked by the connection I'd just made. "You've got to be kidding me...this is all over some stupid Hollywood breakup?"

"I would advise you to keep this between us...but yes, it is true. At least as far as I am concerned." He whispered in my ear, far too sexy for his own good. I could feel his lips turn up into a devious smile before he stepped back and sighed. "For some reason--I blame the human woman on television, who is always dieting or giving away her favorite things--Pam was especially irrational about this one. She took it, ah...personally? I believe that is the accepted vernacular these days. Yes?" I nodded, urging him to continue. "Let's see. At first she merely refused to support anything in connection with Angelina. That didn't last very long. Soon, if anyone tried to defend her, she would go ballistic. You should have seen her and Thalia go at it. I was forced to separate them for months."

I tried to picture a cage match between Pam and Thalia. It was a scary thought. If anyone could take Pam, other than Eric of course, it'd be Thalia. She was unpredictable and hot-tempered. Still, my money--if I had any--would have been on Pam.

"Then, came her idea to officially declare Fangstasia a "Pro-Jennifer" establishment--literally, she wanted to turn away or attack anyone who would not conform. To enforce this rule she purchased an inordinate amount of those asinine "team" shirts and demanded that everyone wear them."

"And did you?" I gasped, not able to contain the smirk on my face. I remembered all the girls wearing them, but seeing Eric stuff himself into one; that would have been priceless.

"Of course not." He responded, indignantly. I couldn't blame him for being slightly offended by my outburst.

"So what happened?" I squealed eagerly, more caught up in this tale than I realized.

"She got over it." He affirmed, waving his hand in the air to suggest it's insignificance. "Granted she would not speak with me for several weeks afterwards...but, like I said, she eventually got over it."

I wanted to question him further, but I noticed a firmness in his voice that hadn't been there until now. I could have been mistaken, but he seemed to be stiffer, too.

"Listen, Sookie." He spoke, in a very astute, Un-Eric way. "I need to take care of some business now. Will you be alright on your own for the time being?"

I wanted to reply with something sassy like "I do fine on my own every day," but I chose not to. Eric was acting weird. I got the impression our chitchat time was over. Instead of pushing it, I excused myself, resolving to take a much-needed visit to the ladies room.

**A/N: I'll leave you all with a tiny teaser from the next chapter: it will hold two new original characters (one vampire-one human), dance floor action and some classic Eric-Sookie jealousy (mostly from our girl this time), and a confrontation and resolution reminiscent of Rhett and Scarlett. As always, reviews are love!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Charliane Harris and Alan Ball; the original characters, Ben, Alisdar and Rhea, are mine. That's it!**

**A/N: **Thank you all for the wonderful feedback. I truly appreciate it. I want to give a special thank you to Mo--penname . She was especially awesome and willing to help me out with this chapter, while RubySun was loaded with work. Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's finally getting into the "meat and potatoes" of the story, which, by the way, has now officially been turned into full length.

**Also, if you haven't already, you may want to check out my profile. It has links to visuals for both Pam and Sookie (my characters are not Anna Paquin and Kristen Bauer of True Blood). Plus, you can get an idea of my new character Rhea. For me visuals are a must. Hope you like it. Reviews are love!**

**Chapter 5**

"So, whatdya say to the tiny blonde to make her so angry?" I heard a man, standing to my left, ask.

The question startled me. You would think after all I'd been through my instincts would be on high alert, but no, I hadn't noticed anyone around me until then. In truth, I wasn't really paying attention, because I was more focused on other matters: Eric.

At first, I couldn't even tear myself away long enough to look at the man. I was too concerned with the scene that was unfolding before my eyes. There, in a corner across the room, a certain Viking was chatting up a busty brunette.

"Business, huh?" I mocked the words he had last spoken to me, under my breath."Riiight."

Trying not to jump to any hasty conclusions, I turned around to where the voice had come from only seconds earlier. After all, it would have been rude to just ignore the guy. I politely gestured to myself, wanting to make sure he was directing the question at me, before I attempted to answer, and he nodded.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I chuckled, half-heartedly. It was the only honest response I could think of.

"Really?" He tilted his head to the side, giving me a warm, welcoming smile. "Try me."

I started to object. Surely, no man wanted to be bothered with an argument—if that's even what it was, ambush was more like it—over Brangelina vs. Bennifer. It actually made me queasy to know that those terms were actually in my vocabulary. I had clearly watched too much TMZ with Amelia during my recovery.

Before I managed to lift my hand in protest, I caught a glimpse of Ms. Perfect over there playfully running her fingers down my--, down Eric's arm.

_Is it just me, or am I getting more territorial by the minute?_ I worried, feeling my fist curl up at my side. _Who am I kidding? Like I'm just gonna waltz over there and knock her lights out without consequence? Not likely. Get a grip, Stackhouse! _

At my own urging, I loosened my fingers, but that little observation had changed everything. Suddenly, the prospect of chatting up "dude in front of me" was more enticing. If nothing else, I knew it would at least level out the playing field. The benefits of "parading the competition" was one thing I actually learned from observing Jason's many "relationships".

"Alight," I told him, grabbing his hand in a way that was entirely too bold for my normal comfort zone. Fortunately, it was just right for my newly brazen attitude. "Why don't we take a seat? My feet are killing me. Not used to the heels and all, ya know?" I told him, weakly—maybe too weakly, because he looked like he was about to offer to carry me—as I dragged him along.

_Maybe I should have left out the dramatic part when I pointed to my feet?_

"You were about to test the range of my imagination," he reminded me, once we were seated.

As I turned to face him, I got a chance to fully look at him for the first time. I can't say my eyes disliked what they saw. He was extremely attractive. He reminded me of Alcide in a way, only softer, but not in the physical sense—in fact, I could see the outline of his abs through the thin t-shirt he was wearing, and it was nothing if not impressive. I suppose it was his coloring that made him appear gentler. His hair was more of a sandy brownish-blonde and his eyes, while still green, were not forest like Alcide's; they were more grayish-green.

He seemed shy to me, but in a confident way, if that makes sense. It doesn't, I know. I just can't really put it into words. It was strange; I found myself wanting to know what he was thinking. Which is odd, because as a rule, I usually try to stay out of people's minds as much as I can.

Over the past few years, I've learned to control my ability. Now, unless I'm otherwise pre-occupied, my shields allow me to decide when I "listen" to those around me. Sure, some people are what I call strong projectors--like say Amelia-- and are awfully hard to ignore, but for the most part it's not so bad. Every now and then I'll even run into folks who aren't so clear or forthcoming with their inner most thoughts. If I want to dip into their minds, I have to make a concerted effort.

After a quick assessment, I concluded that my new friend belonged to the latter group. While his outward appearance was open and approachable, his mind was heavily guarded. I tried reasoning with myself, weighing the pros and cons. In my experience, dipping into the male mind was a dangerous venture, especially if said telepath was exposing a bit of skin on top, which I happened to be (after all, Eric had selected my dress). But, the mystery behind his contradicting personas intrigued me. In the end, my curiosity got the better of me, and I let down my guard.

Mentally, I reached out to him. _Nothing._ I tried again, making a point to brush my hand against his thigh because touching usually intensified the connection, sort of like how when added foil to our rabbit ears on the TV when we were kids, we could pick up an extra station. _Still nothing? What is going on? He's like a void, just like a vampire mind, only NOT A VAMPIRE!_

"Ugh-ow," He groaned, brought up his hand to rub his temple.

"Sorry," I gasped, both confused and worried. I quickly threw up my shields again and made sure I was no longer touching him.

_So, I couldn't read his mind and apparently he could sense when I tried? _

"Just a headache, no worries." He said, smiling as if his discomfort had suddenly vanished.

He obviously had no clue what I had just attempted to do and how that very act had been the cause of his sudden pain. At this point, I couldn't be certain that it was. I only knew that the likelihood of it being a coincidence was low.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't told me before. "I'm Sookie, Sookie Stackhouse." I added, trying my best to be the southern belle I was born to be.

"Well, Sookie, it's nice to meet ya. My name's Ben Lucas. I take it you aren't from here?"

"Hmm, what tipped you off," I asked sarcastically.

"Eh, I dunno…the southern twang you've got going on is hard to miss, and then there's the fact that you are entirely too tan to be from around here. Unless you hit the beds, which in that case, I'll stick with my first defense."

_Good looking and funny too?_ I almost forgot the part about not being able to read his mind, or that had I been able to--sans horrible fairy attack scars--I would have "hit the beds" as he put it. _I like to be tan, gosh darn it! I can't help it. _

All of this was a lot to take in. Luckily, the distraction had been successful in one sense. It seemed he'd forgotten about the original topic of conversation— explaining the situation about Pam. I was grateful for that much.

"So, what's your deal?" I asked him bluntly. I wanted to turn the focus more on him. Plus, even I knew, normal humans don't just sign up to hang out with vampires.

"You mean, what am I doing here?" He snorted at my implication. "I'm not crazy if that's what you think."

"No, no." I backpedaled, not wanting to offend him. The last thing I'd accuse anyone of being was crazy. "Trust me, that's not it." He didn't seem to question my sincerity, which relieved me, but he wasn't exactly jumping to share any information either.

"My mom_ is_ a...vampire." He finally admitted. "That's why I'm here."

"So, you're part vampire?" I exclaimed but immediately wanted to take back my words. I must sound like a country bum kin, who doesn't know her ass from her hands. Okay, so that isn't the actual saying, but you get the idea. Vampires can't procreate--so, being half vampire is impossible. Damn, I really need to limit my Twilight readings. You know something's not right when vampires sparkle.

"No," he chuckled. "I'm human. My mom was turned a couple years ago."

"I'm so sorry." I gasped, trying to imagine how difficult it must be to stand in the same room with the people who murdered your parents. "This must be awful for you."

"Why?" He disagreed, nonchalantly. _Did I hear him right?_ "I'm here out of gratitude. I owe Alasdair. If he hadn't been willing to help us, my mom would have died of cancer."

I tried to wrap my head around what he was telling me. _And I thought my life was complicated?_

"This Alasdair, he is here then?"

"Yes. He's the King of Missouri." He said it as if I should know or something.

"And, your mother?"

"Standing beside him." He smiled, pointing over to where they were. My mouth dropped.

"They look so..._happy_." I smiled back at him nervously. I didn't understand how it had all worked out but apparently it had. Who was I to judge, right?

...

"What do you require of me now, Pamela?" Bill growled through the receiver.

"Compton?" I addressed the should-be-ailing vampire curiously. He seemed oddly rejuvenated, given the circumstances. It were as though I could feel his strength had increased. "Are you well?"

"Not exactly." Bill quipped back.

"Oh, but you sound better..." I'll admit, I was somewhat taken aback by the concept.

"Do not sound so disappointed. I assure you, it is only temporary and not without consequence."

"And, what might these consequences be?" I snorted. "You might be an ass, but you are not an idiot...usually."

I added that last part on purpose, knowing a certain human had driven not only my master crazy, but this hoodwink as well. I almost didn't resonate what he said next, because I was too caught up in my personal glory.

"I will be forever in your... _generous_ maker's debt." He stated simply, stressing the generous part after clearing his throat. I suppose this was an indication of his disapproval. "Must I go on, or have you ascertained the significance of my current plight?"

"Are you suggesting Eric gave you blood?" I blurted out in shock, ignoring his "tragic" predicament. Bill never could get to the point.

"Yes," Bill finally affirmed, in haste. "Eric offered me a vile of his blood before leaving for St. Louis. I could not refuse. In my current stage of silver poisoning, I am very limited in whose blood I can take. Only very potent--very old--vampires have the consistency required to counteract the spread."

_Impossible_, I thought. _Eric despised the man equally if not more than I. What on earth would possess him to do that? No. He would not. _

My master may have slipped in the judgment category, as of late--assumedly a consequence of "being in love." I have learned a lot from my studies of modern cinematography, particularly romantic comedies or "Rom-Coms." I am told the latter is currently the hip slang? Rubbish, I say. Humans want to abbreviate everything these days. It has become a phenomenon of sorts--perhaps entertaining at first--now, utterly out of hand.

In any case, my point was that all the "great" films portray a common theme: acting foolishly in the name of love. Therefore, I must conclude this type of behavior is quite common and to be expected. Still, I hope to never witness Eric, outside Sookie's old farmhouse, holding a boom-box over his head. Trust me. It is not as unlikely as you may think. He has all the fixings--trench coat, high top sneakers, MC Hammer pants--to make it happen if he really wanted to.

Luckily, for me, my master is no fool. He would never subject himself to such an indignity. Which, brings me back to my original thesis: Eric would never give Bill his own blood.

"Did he offer any indication as to why he would do such a thing?"

"To ensure Sookie's happiness..." he explained, as if reiterating a point he had already stated. "And, of course, since Eric never acts without ulterior motive, I deduced that he also wishes to monitor any potential interaction I may have with Sookie in the future. That is, assuming you are successful in Chicago."

"How _convenient_..." I uttered, slyly.

I suppose that would eliminate Bill's pesky little habit of lurking around in the shadows of Sookie's home, but I do not see my master acting on such insignificant affairs. Deep down, I suspect Eric actually enjoys the opportunity to put he and Sookie's sexual liaisons on display for "poor 'ol Billy."I chuckled to myself_. _I have to say, it does have a nice ring to it!

Even acknowledging the pure genius of securing a personal GPS on Bill, I still could not shake the feeling that something about his rationalization did not add up. Eric had recently given Sookie a substantial amount of blood--so much that I had to supplement the process by replenishing Eric with my own--he would likely be unable, lest willing, to service Compton.

"If you are done gloating now," Bill interrupted my thought process. "I would like to move on and discuss what it is that prompted you to seek me out. I am not to assume you called to 'chat' am I?"

"Of course not!" I balked, not so much at the interruption--though his ignorance did piss me off--more so the insinuation that I would ever deliberately call him to "chat."

_"Chat?" Honestly, who was he kidding?_ I asked myself, knowing the only thing that was keeping me from crying out in laughter was the thought of ruining my crisp white top with bloody tears. _There is not a single pleasantry I wished to discuss with that miserable ass of a man. Didn't his mother teach him not to trust everything he was told? I guess not. If he wanted to go on believing the blood he consumed was Eric's, then so be it! Being gullible is his business. _

"Am I to presume you miraculously acquired a personality in the short time Sookie and I have been absent?" I mocked his ridiculous attempt at irony by rattling off far more preposterous notions. "Did you rid yourself of those ridiculous henleys or the pleated Docker's you love so much? Better yet, should I believe you ripped up that Dillard's card all together..." I could have gone on for days --Bill was such an easy target--but he stopped me.

"Very mature...I'll take your fashion advice into consideration should I survive and require a 'new look.' As for now, move along to the part where you reveal your demands."

"Well, I need a favor..." I began to explain the situation.

"I suspected as much," Bill droned.

"Quit being so dramatic!" I shouted in annoyance. "I do not take pleasure in requesting your assistance."

"Very well, what do you need?"

I carefully described the two vampires I had observed earlier, stressing the odd sensation that accompanied their presence, specifically the woman.

"Did anyone else seem to be affected?" he questioned with more fervor. Now I had his attention.

"Eric tensed up and appeared drawn to them but only for a split second. He must not have sensed a threat, because he did not move to protect Sookie. I figured they must know each other somehow, but after that initial reaction, Eric seemed to ignore them. As far as I know, that was the extent of any confrontation."

"Interesting," was the only response I got from Bill.

_Interesting? _I thought._ That's it? Ugh. He is so irritatingly calm, cool and collected. This is why I do not bother with men anymore. They are completely incompetent!_

"_Well..."_ I prompted, trying to force more out of him.

"Contrary to what _you_ may think, I do not have the extent of my database memorized."

"Of course." I grunted, rolling my eyes. "How long?"

"I should be able to narrow it down within the hour. There are very few vampires as old as you suspect these two to be. I will call you as soon as I know something. Anything else?"

I really didn't want to go there, but I didn't exactly have a choice. Something about Bill's mystery donor still had me worried. Bill had specifically mentioned the stipulation of age, so that effectively ruled me out, but could Eric have somehow harvested his maker's blood? I had heard talks of this practice--collecting and selling vampire blood for various causes--becoming a trend among the very old of our kind. It was considered a very lucrative business venture, and my master was cutting edge in this respect. It was starting to look like the only logical--and by logical, I mean supernaturally speaking--explanation.

"Uh. Yes. One more thing." I gathered my nerves up. "The vampire who sired Eric...he is not still alive is he?"

...

I sat for a while in silence, contemplating Ben's family situation. As my mind wandered, I soon found that my eyes had followed suit. I was now looking directly over to where Eric had been standing earlier. If I were being completely honest, I'd admit that I hadn't ever fully let him out of my sight. Using my peripheral--word of the day-- vision, I had been able to keep fairly good tabs on his whereabouts the whole time. It wasn't hard. Other than the occasional shift, vampires weren't known to be flamboyant in their motions. Eric—and Pam, by default—were anomalies in that they actually had a sense of humor and outwardly expressed themselves. However, this wasn't something that they tended to broadcast.

I felt terrible ignoring my company--I really needed a refresher course in manners--but I was no longer paying any attention to Ben. I couldn't help it. What had at first seemed like somewhat innocent, friendly conversation had morphed into full-blown femme fetale seduction. As a woman, and the sister of our town's self-proclaimed "most eligible bachelor"--gag me, I know--I could sense her forwardness and sexual advances a mile away.

Ashamed as I am to confess, all I kept thinking was: thank god vampires couldn't impregnate. Otherwise, I might have a whole other set of worries to consider. Besides "not bein able to get'er up," Jason's greatest fear in life was getting involved with a "trapper a woman who purposely got herself pregnant to secure a man. I had always thought the concept was a bit outlandish; like a phobia my brother had developed from fucking around on too many women. As you can imagine, I was horrified with myself for assuming such things, and terrified by the effect this stranger had on my sensibilities. Would I say so aloud? No. Not a chance. I still had a small fraction of my pride, and I planned on keeping it.

_Think she knows about me?_ I wondered. There goes that pride thing again. _Would he tell her? I mean, he wasn't necessarily required to do so, at least I didn't think he was. I didn't have any special claim on him—he wasn't technically "mine"—but it would have been nice! _

I felt a wave of warmth rise over me and everything else in the room fell out of focus. At one point I thought I felt him staring back, but I quickly turned my head towards Ben and muttered something. At that, the sensation ceased and by the time I returned my gaze, they were gone.

I might have started to worry, except it didn't take me but a second to figure out where they had run off to: the dance floor. Yes, my Viking--oh crap, I'm doing the possessive pronoun thing--was dancing, and well, might I add. For his size he could really work it. Though, that wasn't a secret to me, and it definitely wasn't the problem at hand. If he had been alone, my front row seat would have been very enjoyable. Watching him move to the beat of Usher's "Love In This Club," was not something I wanted to share with anyone else. Make no mistake, if he was "doin' it on purpose, windin' and workin' it," for my benefit, I would be all for him "keepin it comin, all night long." Yes, "sexually, mentally, physically, emotionally," all that. I was more than ready after seeing the figure eights he was making with his hips. By the way I was looking at him, he would definitely be able to tell where my head was at. Damn, I was lusting! Too bad I was only a spectator "in this club." That was the problem.

It sounds silly but in that moment every ounce of worry, anxiety, lust that I'd built up was replaced with something else, a feeling I wasn't totally familiar with…envy? I wasn't sure. All I knew was: he was dancing and talking and…laughing, with an insanely beautiful woman, and I didn't like it.

_Did she just grind on him?_ _Seriously, who is this chick? Did she know my track record with vamp-hoes? _

Now, I was officially pissed.

"Let's dance, " I said, urgently, standing up and offering Ben my hand. It wasn't the conventional procedure, but I didn't have time for all that right now. This meant war...

...

It wasn't long before I heard back from Bill--efficient one that he was--and that came with answers. I listened intently as he confirmed my suspicions and more. Appius Livius Ocella, my maker's maker, was the male vampire I had observed earlier in the night. I had learned only a few things about him, through the grapevine; Eric, for the most part, had spoken very little of him to me. Bill, on the other hand, seemed to know quite a bit. Too much, if you ask me, but I am not shy about my rather untamable jealousy.

"Did you interview Appius personally?" I couldn't help but request how he had gotten all this information.

"Yes, he was one of my first. I met him while in Peru. He was visiting the vampire I was investigating at the time, a child of his child, as it turns out: Túpac Inca Yupanqui."

"His child? How many, exactly, does he have?"

"Ocella sired a total of 12, including Eric. Only 3 remain."

"Holy crap!" I shouted, unable to contain my utter astonishment. "Is that not an excessive amount?"

"Not necessarily, Ocella is over 2000 years old. I agree it is not the most common practice, but others in his position have sired the same if not more. One of the oldest vampires in my database, an Egyptian prince from the Old Kingdom, turned so many in his 4,000 years that he had lost track after 100..."

"Okay," I interjected, stopping him before he could go all "History Channel" on me. "I get the point."

"Yes, sorry. I believe the female vampire you described is Rhea Venusina. Unlike his others, who were all between 200-300 years apart, she was turned only fifty years after Eric. Judging by this break in pattern, I can only assume he acted for a specific reason--my guess, to be a sexual companion of Eric's--Ocella's way of keeping him around."

"That is preposterous!" I exclaimed, not wanting to believe the side-handed accusation he was making. "Eric does not accept bribes."

"Relax, Pamela, I was not suggesting Eric accepted or took advantage of the situation. Though, if he had, it would not necessarily be a reflection of the thousand year-old vampire he is today. He may not have been able to resist, or he could have been compelled to do so."

"Can it, Compton. Some of us do not lack in the self-control department, like you."

I could hear him fidget at my comment. It must have bothered him to know that I had knowledge of his little "slip up" in Jackson.

"The fact remains, Eric stayed with Ocella another fifty years before venturing out on his own. He said so himself. Do the math."

"First of all, I am fairly certain my educational experiences far exceeded yours. While you were off fighting in a pointless war, in which you were shamelessly defeated, I was discovering the works of Plato, Aristotle, Newton. Need I go on?" He didn't respond. I took that as a surrender to my point. "Perhaps we might want to wait to speculate further on this subject. It seems rather irrelevant in comparison to the larger issue of why they are here." I had a pretty good idea myself, but I would not ruin Bill's moment.

"Yes, of course." He complied. "That is the conundrum. You see, when I originally discovered Ocella, Rhea was with him. I requested an interview with her, but she outright refused. I was only in her presence for that brief time, but I noticed something was off. The aura you expressed feeling, it was not as apparent to me, but it was similar. If Ocella was telling the truth, it would mean he and Rhea had never been apart for a substantial period of time. You must know, that is extremely uncommon."

"You mean to tell me these two have been together for nearly 1000 years and have not..."

"Ocella made his orientation very clear. Rhea was the only female he turned, and I do believe--whether he was successful or not in his quest--that he did not take the girl for personal reasons. Well, let me rephrase that: he did not acquire her for personal pleasure."

"Okay, I catch your drift. Now what do we know about this Rhea chick?"

"Not a whole lot, that I can confirm." Bill admitted, much to my disappointment. "But, I can speculate a bit if you'll allow it." He added, in a tone I could only guess was due to excitement. _What a child._

"I suppose. If you must," I replied, dryly, not wanted to hint at my own curiosity. Though it is a rare occasion, sometimes I actually enjoy his peculiar knowledge.

"After she denied my request, it only made me more suspicious. I dedicated the remainder of my stay to gathering what information I could on my own. I first approached Túpac, who despite having spent considerable time with her, had little to say. He did, however, direct me to an old journal of his--one Tupac had kept during his early days as a vampire. From those writings, I came to understand a great deal about Rhea, her past and the strange sensation she exuded."

Bill paused to sip at what I was sure was a bottle of True Blood and then continued on with his findings.

"According to Roman legend, her name is a variant of two famously provocative women, both of whom she is supposedly descended from: Venus--goddess of love and beauty--and Rhea Silvia--mother of Romulus, the founder of Rome. It is from that divine lineage which she inherited her notable beauty and grace. Even as a human, she was reportedly extraordinary in that respect. The people hailed her: the fairest woman since Helen of Troy. I suspect this was a great honor, even if her royal standing--as the ruling Emperor's only daughter--predisposed her to flattery."

_Yes,_ I thought, sarcastically. _Leave it to Bill and his antebellum upbringing. A woman's status in the world couldn't possibly be anything other than a direct reflection of one's father or husband; never to be attributed as an independent achievement. Pmph! Insipid fools._

When I regained focus he was still digressing.

"Her likeness to the aforementioned deities was thought to be an indication of their favor for the region. She was so revered that her death, in 1054AD, was believed to be the catalyst of the empire's fall."

This was all truly very interesting, but what I wanted, or needed, to know was how any of this related to the aura. I could sit around the campfire with Bill another time.

"I appreciate the bedtime story, but can you skip to the part where you explain how this all affects me?"

"Ah, of course, Pamela. After all, it is always about you, is it not?" He chastised me, but I did not care enough at this point to object. "It seems, along with her _ethereal_ appearance, that she developed a certain allure from her ancestors. Her talent, if you will, is one of imposed seduction; meaning, she possess the ability to hold an almost intoxicating control over those who are around her."

"How is that even possible?" I gasped. "I have never heard of such a thing."

"Like I said, none of this has been officially confirmed by the source. Though, your reaction does incline me to agree with Túpac's general premise. And, I must warn you. He predicts that her range of influence is more severe depending on the closeness or relation of blood. I suspect this is why she and Ocella have stayed so close throughout the years. At some point the balance of power must have shifted in Rhea's favor."

"So you are saying this Rhea actually controls Ocella now. Could this have been the reason Eric decided to stay those extra years? Did Ocella know that she would be able to manipulate Eric? Is that why he chose her?" I was spouting off questions a mile a minute. My mind was racing at the endless possibilities this presented. They were here, and I would guarantee it wasn't by coincidence.

"Listen, slow down for a second." Bill stopped me before my next thought escaped. For once I complied with his request. "I do not believe Ocella intentionally singled her out for any motive other than securing the most appealing suitor for Eric. While his intentions were less than admirable, I found no malice behind his feelings. He still, as far as I could tell, held genuine affection for him. Likewise, Rhea grew into her talent as she matured in her vampirism. It was not an innate quality. At least, not one that she immediately recognized. It would be safe to assume Eric left before her allure had blossomed."

"So, it is also likely that Eric has no idea...no grasp of her dangerous potential?"

"Correct."

"Oh, bloody hell!" I looked at my watch. I had left the ballroom over two hours ago. Eric was probably already under her "spell" by now. And, Sookie. Shit! I had to move quickly. That girl had a serious temper on her. "Okay, so how am I supposed to overcome this undead, praying mantis?"

"You can't," Bill responded, as if surprised I would even ask. "In fact, because Eric has had Sookie's blood in greater quantity, he may be somewhat immune. I would be more concerned for your safety. If she desired anything of Eric or Sookie, you would be her easiest target."

"I am to be a sitting duck then? That is your plan?" I huffed. "This is the reason you cannot keep a good woman! Incompetence! And . . . just so you know, the blood you drank was Ocella's, not Eric's, you idiot!"

"Pam..." I heard the droll of his voice as I clamped the phone shut. _Useless, I tell you, useless! _

Before I could do anything, though, I heard a loud crashing sound, and what I feared was Sookie's raised voice coming from inside the ballroom.

...

Despite my better efforts, the dancing on my part didn't last long. That feeling in the pit of my stomach just wouldn't go away. Every inch forward that whore took--closing the gap between her and Eric--only intensified the pressure more. I thought I might explode, if I didn't intervene at that very moment. With quiet but fierce resolution, I strode over to them.

Eric looked in my direction the second I appeared at their side, but it wasn't his eyes staring back at me. He seemed to be struggling to fully recognize me, but I could tell he felt me. The woman, to my astonishment, didn't even budge.

_What the hell was going on? _

"Excuse me?" I snapped, poking at her shoulder as I impatiently waited for any acknowledgment of my existence. "Excuse me!"

"Yes?" She spun around with startling speed. If I hadn't known better I might have thought her head rotated 360 degrees. "Ah, the human companion . . . so nice we finally meet." She was playing coy with me, but circling in a way that bore a striking resemblance to that of a predator appraising her next meal. The smile on her face was simply terrifying, yet sinfully inviting. I could only imagine what a dreadful combination that would make out in the wild.

"Ah hum," I nodded my head in agreement, not trying to test the waters just yet. "I'm Sookie."

"Why of course you are. I have heard so much about you from my brother," she gestured to Eric. "How could I not know?"

She let out a strange laugh--airy and harp-like but somehow still sinister--while I turned my attention back to Eric. "I am Rhea."

_Brother? _I contemplated the relation, as I scanned them both over. I still hadn't responded to her introduction, but it hadn't seemed to bother her._ Would that make the creepy guy--with the Caesar bowl-cut hair--who had been standing with her earlier, his dad or something? Ugh! Not this maker crap again!_

"Eric," I stammered. He still hadn't moved to my side but every now and then I caught a glimpse of the vampire I knew in his eyes. I suppose that was improvement. "What is going on?" I moved to touch his hand and he clamped his over mine; a warning?

"We were just having a little fun." Rhea insisted, stepping between us and cutting off our contact. "We know each other quite well, you know."

"Oh really?" My courage--and stupidity-- always seemed to come out at the most inopportune times. "I guess you must know then that we are married...pledged by the knife."

_What in god's creation has gotten into me? "Pledged by the knife?" I must sound like an absolute lunatic! Who says stuff like that anyways? I will surely pay for this later._

From behind me I could feel that Ben had suddenly decided to join in on the pow-wow. I immediately felt worse for dragging him into all of this. He was just a nice guy, who was about to get into some serious trouble thanks to yours truly. _How did I keep doing this?_

"You have to provoke her...make her draw blood," he whispered, tentatively.

_Well, that's a new one!_ I joked to myself. _Not at all what I had expected to hear out of him. "Put myself in harm's way."_ _Usually it is the other way around._

"Pam . . . " he continued to whisper, stressing her name as if to prove something, "said your blood is the only thing Eric will respond to now."

Ben must have anticipated my hesitation, or more likely Pam must have, because before I had the chance to question anything, he had already shoved me into her.

In the moments that directly followed, I remember very little. A strike to my face; splitting open my lip and blood--my blood, more than I thought humanly possible, coming from a tiny gash. Then, Eric...at my side, scooping me up, kicking open doors and hauling me up a grand staircase--Rhett Butler style. You know, two steps at a time.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Eric's worried gasp pulled me to. "She could have killed you!"

By then the adrenaline effect had worn off, and given my dazed response, I think it's safe to assume I was entering into the initial stages of shock.

I lifted up my head to look at him and sighed through glazed over eyes. "All's fair, right?"

. . .

**A/N: Okay darlings, what did you think? Please review. This chapter had alot going on. I want to know what you all thought. It's always changing so if you love or hate anything about it, do tell. You guys keep me going! Hugs!**

**In terms of the historical aspects, I tried to do my research. Obviously some things are not completely accurate--it's supernatural--but Rhea Silvia and Túpac Inca Yupanqui are real people with real connections to the areas they were referenced to. If you want any more info just PM me.**

**Spoilers: Next chapter we will have more Ocella/Rhea, Eric/Sookie drama, but more so some backstory and resolution. Pam will play a huge role in sorting everything out. A turn in events, involving none other than Victor, will force Eric/Ocella/Rhea back to Shreveport. But, not before E/S get some lovin in. Chapter 7, Sookie and Pam will resume their road trip. Back to girl bonding, soul searching...and some major opening up on Pam's part.**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Road To and From Perdition**

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Southern Vampire Mysteries, or The Vampire Diaries. The other characters: Ben, Alisdar, Rhea, Misc. Fae are all mine.

A/N: Because I have been so negligent in getting this updated I decided to wing it and go without a beta. It is a scary prospect but I did my best to proof my errors. Please let me know what you think. Reviews are much appreciated. Special thanks to the recent reviewers that motivated me to get back on the horse.

P.S. So I wake up this morning and read my reviews and low and behold, one from "RealLuvAlways"- which is me - appears. I first question whether I slept-walk reviewed my own chapter, and didn't Luckily, I figured out the issue fairly quickly, after my mom - yes, my freaking mom - confessed to being secretly reading/reviewing. Apparently she followed the link from her email alert and didn't realize FF was still signed in under me. Needless to say, I contacted FF because I think it is ridiculous that it even allows someone to review their own chapter and two, if someone is following a link from their personal email - regardless of who is currently signed in - I think it should reckognize that. Anyways, that's my soap box for the day. Curious if anyone else has experienced something like that - PM me, please. Oh, and to save me from the humilation that there is only review this chap and it is from me/my mom, for peet's sake please leave me some feedback - I'm begging.

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_**Chapter 6**_

I couldn't tell you what made Sookie a magnet for trouble if I tried. All I can say is that it is utterly exhausting and completely obnoxious. Although I will admit, she also had a knack for attracting some quality "meat" - as in men.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the thought. Those Jersey Shore folks come up with the most entertaining phrases. They are by far the most creative idiots I have ever watched on television. And, by golly those names! Snooki...J-Wow...the Situation? He's a situation alright. A situation no woman should ever be subjected to, that is for damn sure. Oh, and how I wish I could have been there when that oompa-loompa got one planted on her! It is so unfair; that fist should have been mine, I tell you.

Maybe I will request that they make an appearance at Fangstasia? That would be a hoot alright - their overly tanned bodies next to my porcelain, white, picture of perfection. Yes, they will definitely be getting invitations to this year's Dracula Night.

"So," I heard a slightly familiar voice pierce through my proverbial train of thought. "What's got your panties in a bunch, besides the whole 'I ordered my friend into the ring of fire' thing?"

I must have been letting my mind get the best of me, because by that time I was already half way across the room and apparently wearing a scowl. Using my vampiric speed, I spun around to face the gentleman caller. Honestly, what is the purpose of having the power if you don't use it, right? It's definitely no fun. I would imagine it is rather similar to being a cop and not turning on a siren or two when you're in a hurry - for a donut, or in my case a pair of Louboutins.

"Pardon?" I chimed back, tilting my head and leering in his direction. Did this human pork -sword really ask me what 'had my panties in a bunch'? Perhaps he preferred to play with fire, like the telepath. Well, if he wanted flames he came to the wrong party. Fire + Vampire = not in a million years. In fact, I much prefer the term of endearment: "Ice-queen." It is far more appropriate, and if Pamela Ravenscroft is one thing...it is appropriate.

"Uh...uh" He stammered, obviously sensing that his initial attempt at an introduction had failed. Miserably, if I may add. "I thought I'd see if you needed my help?"

"Well aren't you sweet." I grinned. Men - like taking candy from a baby.

"Your girl took a helluva beating back there." He blushed and tried to divert the subject.

"Eh, she's survived worse." I replied nonchalantly. That seemed to both relax and worry him. Odd reaction. If only he knew how serious I was. "Listen, since you offered, there is something you might be able to help me with..."

"Shoot." He smiled back.

Bearing in mind that I had no intention of ruining my dress with his blood, my initial thoughts were: "well I'll be darned, how convenient," followed by a more pragmatic "this boy is clearly way too accommodating." Then again - and I had to remind myself because I often forget this part - those pesky Y chromosomes never allow thinking of the rational 'head.' Truthfully, the things men will do to score a trip to "Lady Beaverland" befuddles me.

In this case, though, I had no justifiable reason to suspect trickery or anything of the sort. I needed his help and he was offering. Case closed.

"Follow me," I instructed, heading towards the hotel's media center . I had a plan, and for it to work smoothly there were a few loose ends that needed to be tied up - aka William Compton.

No matter how many times I ran through the facts in my head, I couldn't shake the feeling that Bill had somehow instigated this little run in with Eric's maker. Sure he put up a pretty good show earlier, when I first presented him with the news, but I've always thought Bill was a snake deep down.

Billy boy's weakness - aside from the obvious busty blonde breather - had always been that blasted human morality of his. Enters my new liaison. Whereas Bill would certainly never believe I was interested in hearing the minute details of his treacherous database, I'm sure for the sake of "scholarly research" he wouldn't turn down say a struggling graduate student. If said student happens to attend Shreveport's own Centenary College of Louisiana - of which I have on good authority Mr. Compton is a anonymous benefactor - all bets are off.

Whether he meant to or not, Compton tipped off someone with a serious grudge on Eric, and I was bound and determined to find out who.

"Okay, here's the deal..." I started to explain, as I pulled up the database on the nearest computer screen. "I don't know how much you know about vampire society. Judging by your choice of Friday night locale I am guessing you aren't a complete amateur. "

"My step-father is the King of St. Louis, he turned my mom a year or so back." He interrupted me to clarify. "Let's just say I've been around the block - at least compared to most of the living population."

"I love Alisdar!" I shrieked - like a little school girl - then realized how big of a wanker I must have sounded like. He didn't seem to mind though, of course. I rolled my eyes when the expression on his face turned proud. Men. It's like they are perpetually forced to think with their peckers! A damn shame when you really think about it. Oh, well. I guess the saying is true: "boys will be boys."

"For the record, I do not love-love him, as in I want to marry the guy or anything," I tried to justify and only succeeded in furthering my wankerness. When did I cash in my dignity for a chance to become a blabbering fool? And, why in the bloody hell is Joe Schmoe making me nervous? I'm acting like I just stepped off the set of Sweet Valley High!

Eventually - and by eventually I mean within seconds - I regained my composure and was back to being Pam. "I've known Alisdar for many years," I explained, "he was one of the first vampires I came in contact with after venturing out on my own. He was quite the charmer - a ladies man, if you will - back in the day. That is, after I taught him everything he needed to know." I chuckled to myself thinking about that first night when I had met him. I remember it like it was yesterday.

He was out looking for some totty at this Jazz club in Chicago. I saw him strike up a conversation with a group of hoity toity bitches - of which, in full disclosure, I am usually amongst - using ghastly broken English. I overheard one of the ladies giggle to her friend, remarking that "he sounded like a hot tamale salesman." However that is supposed to sound, I do not know. Needless to say, I couldn't help but offer my expertise. I am fairly confident that had I not stepped in at that very moment, he would have struggled with the ladies all night. To be honest, it wasn't a revolutionary concept at all. I just told him to speak in his native language - Tartessian. You see, us women, we are suckers for the exotic. I bet you were even turned on by the sounds of it. Don't lie. And besides, I may have mentioned that he was hung like a racehorse too. In any case, we became instant pals and the rest is, well...history.

"Yea, my mom seems to be happy." He shrugged. "And, as far as vamps go, Alisdar's pretty legit."

"Legit?" I repeated, not understanding the connotation.

"You know, he's cool?" He tried again, half-snickering at my ignorance. "How old are you anyways?"

"Has your mother not taught you anything?" I scoffed, feigning disgust. "You never ask a lady her age."

"That old, huh?" He tried to diffuse the situation with comedy, poor comedy at that. I decided to throw the boy a bone.

"If you must know, I am 19..." I huffed in defiance. "Going on 200." I added the last part slyly, assuming he would be taken aback. I was wrong.

"Best of both worlds then." He smiled, warmly - eyes glistening - as if he really meant it. It's weird. I had never fully understood Eric's infatuation with Sookie, or Bill's for that matter, until that very moment. I wouldn't say I was attracted to him exactly. No. It was something else. I was intrigued. Intrigued by the intensity of his human disposition and his inability to mask the emotion in his eyes.

I wondered if this was how my sister, Emma, felt when she first met Ethan - full of promise and years prior to his infidelity. After all there was a certain method to my madness, a reason for my bitter retribution towards the male race. He had fooled me too, you know. We had all fallen victim to the charming ways of Ethan Finely Clarke III. I just happened to be the first to snap out of it, catching him ass naked in the storage room of my father's textile shop, humping that floozy of a model we had just hired - Rosalina was her name.

My sister never found out, at least not on my account. I suspect she eventually put two and two together. It takes more than a case of denial to ignore the coincidence of Rosalina's child looking like Ethan's mini-me, or the convenient raise she earned upon said pregnancy.

I knew my sister cried herself to sleep every night after that, her husband slowly pulling away, but the final blow came years after I had moved on. Coincidently, during one of my secret trips back to London, I found out that he had finally confessed to the affair - the same night he walked out on their marriage. I watched from afar as she read the letter he left next to the fireplace - wedding ring on top for good measure - and for the first time since I had been turned I felt something, something horrible. As if cheating on her and abandoning her hadn't been enough, he had the nerve to blame their problems on her not "trying" hard enough to have a child. That accusation literally tore the heart right out of her chest. I had never seen such desperation in my life. I still have yet to see something so devastating in my undead life. Trust me, it was truly unbearable, and I am not one to cower.

Looking back, the chance to rid myself of that guilt, feeling responsible for my sister's pain, was one of the many reasons I relished my new vampire existence. I never wanted to live like my sister wished to - married with little spoiled-brat children. The reality of being tied down by a family of my own was horrifying. Still, I knew my reluctance towards traditional life only stood to hurt my sister more, as if I were rubbing that choice of lifestyle in her face. I guess that is why when Eric gave me the opportunity of a lifetime, many lifetimes if you want to get technical, I did not think twice about accepting.

Seeing the pure vulnerability in this human man's eyes was both refreshing and upsetting. It pushed my focus back to the present, though, and I finally realized why he seemed so inviting, so comfortable and familiar to me...he had Emma's eyes.

"You alright?" He asked, apprehensively, looking down at his feet. I must not be as slick as I think.

"Yes," I cleared my throat unnecessarily - silly human habit. "As I was saying..." I redirected his attention back to the screen and finished explaining the very important role he was about to play in my fabulous master plan.

A half an hour later, Ben - as he later insisted I call him - emerged from the other room, clamping his cell phone shut and giving me a wink.

"Well?" I asked anxiously. He was enjoying this entirely too much. He had even insisted I not be present for the call. According to him: it would be more authentic. Rubbish.

"I think you just might be a genius, little lady."

"I thought that was obvious." I deadpanned. "To be clear, though, are you saying Bill Compton arranged for Ocella and Rhea to be here?"

"Not exactly." He was clearly struggling to find the right way of explaining what he had just learned.

"See, this is precisely why I should have been listening on!" I groaned.

"Relax." He placated me. "Does the name Victor Madden mean anything to you?"

My mood instantly shifted, and I tensed at the thought of Victor and how he may be involved in this mess. It had been easy to blame Compton, but if I were being honest with myself I would have to admit that it was highly unlikely he would turn out to be the sole conspirator. Unlike Victor - who was obviously completely unhinged and bonkers enough to go behind his king's back - he in no way had the kahuna's to pull off a job like this. Poor Billy had always been, and would forever remain, a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things.

"Tell me exactly, and I mean word for word, what Bill said about Victor." I instructed harshly. "And, let me remind you..."

"I know, I know," he stopped me mid-sentence, holding up his arms in mock-surrender. "If I don't, you will force it out of me one way or another." He repeated my earlier threat verbatim.

"Do not tempt me boy." I growled. Unfortunately that did not incite the desired response.

"Maybe I'm counting on it." He joked. Typical. And yet, I couldn't help but think it unnatural on him. He was actually quite sweet, when he wasn't pulling one of Matthew McConaughey's cheese-ball lines out of his ass.

Instead of responding to his rather presumptuous remark, I chose to disregard it completely. I have learned that this tactic usually works better than anything else. As I suspected, by providing no other alternative, he quickly sobered up from his plight of sexual drunkenness and moved on to the more pressing matter.

Unfortunately, by the time Ben had finished recapping the particulars, dawn was approaching and my internal alarm was droning in on me. Naturally my new pal insisted on walking me to my hotel room - ever the gentleman - as if he stood a chance protecting me in the event that I needed protecting. Such silliness. If anyone needed a bodyguard it was him. He was, after all, the one fraternizing with a "daughter of Baphomet."

...

I have to say, if you ignore the part where my lip was split in two by a crazed vamp-ho, last night had turned into something pretty darn incredible. Of course, that is how nights with Eric always ended up; that was practically inevitable. It was the "in between" - the time I spent alone - that tended to open up the flood gates of opportunity, which generally led to my mind wandering off into much darker, less pleasant places.

After going through what I've gone through the past three years - hell, my whole life if you really think about it - getting caught up in the misery and hopelessness was easy. Learning from my mistakes, owning up to it when I'm wrong, or in over my head, that part is a bit sketchier. Harder yet, is overcoming nearly three decades of self-deprecation. That is an enormous feat, and I struggle to beat it every day. Naturally, like anything else, some weeks are worse than others. Lately, the good weeks have been few and far between - to the point where I am actually embarrassed to say how many times I've slipped back into my old ways.

Now, I know what ya'll are thinking and trust me, I know...alot of that is my own damn fault. That is the whole point I am trying to make here. I, Sookie Stackhouse, know that I do not - and I repeat DO NOT - manage my feelings well, at all. I've known that since I was a little girl and unfortunately, the ones that loved me the most, the few people I had managed not to lose, tended to feel my wrath the most.

There, I've admitted it. Are you happy now? Everyone knows acceptance is the first step to recovery, right? Wrong! Well, actually, if you want to get technical about it, I wouldn't know because I've never - in my wholesome 29 years - attempted to make it past step one.

Hmm, maybe it's time I look into the rest of those 12 steps? I guess today is as good as any other. As usual this human telepath has nothing better to do with her "day" time. Besides, it sure beats moping around in this dark room, and Eric may actually approve of this extracurricular activity. Not that I need to, want to, or will ever ask for his permission. I may love the man, but he sure as hell doesn't own me!

After slipping on a pair of jeans and a crimson, v-neck tee - it just happened to be sitting on my suitcase, wonder how that happened - I headed down to the lobby and looked around for any sign that advertized free internet access. I swear those things are supposed to be everywhere these days. That is how it seems whenever I watch the travel channel, anyways. Honestly, after seeing some of the "big-city" amenities, I wouldn't have been surprised to find Wi-Fi in their public restrooms. Granted it's not Chicago, New York or LA, but St. Louis is like a gigantic city compared to Bon Temps, shouldn't there be a certain amount of Wi-Fi per square foot?

Now I know I must look a fool, piddlin around with no clue where I'm goin. And, of course, there aint a single person willing to make eye contact with me. Damn Yankees, always walking around with their high-tech cell phones, talking so fast you would think they're speaking a different language.

Ah. Finally. Someone who might be able to help.

"Ben!" I shouted, flailing my arms around to get his attention.

"Oh, hey." He gave me a once over and smiled a bit awkwardly. "I'm surprised to see you out so early after..." He sort of stop-stuttered.

Maybe he was expecting to find me in a body cast or something? I dunno. He was the one that shoved me into a very volatile - word of the day - situation last night. Which, speaking of, I should be alot more angry with him than I was. I must be getting soft.

"Anyways," he rallied back with a bit more spirit than before. "I was just about to hit up this great breakfast joint down the block. I don't like to go without my morning Joe, ya know." He said the last part like it was a jingle or something. "Wanna come along?"

The thing is, I really wanted to. Really, really wanted to. I mean, I needs my coffee - black with a ton of sugar cubes - like a fat kid needs cake. Is there a problem with that? Coffee is like my super drink. I relish its existence, almost as much as I do the sun's rays, and that's saying a lot coming from me. Let's just say, I try not to leave the house without having at least one cup. And if I can't there is absolutely no substitute, in my opinion. I tried one of those red-bull drinks a while back and all it did was give me the jitters. I was sluggish and jumpy at the same time. Awful.

Does that help justify my wish to take this guy up on his offer? Cuz if it didn't you might be slower than me on the uptake and again that's saying alot coming from me. Unfortunately, I was sort of on a mission now wasn't I?

"I would love to, really I would but," I started to state my objection, switching the weight of my body back and forth anxiously, edging on the verge of temper tantrum. "Unless you happen to know the 12 steps to recovery off the top of your head and can validate my _need_ for coffee, I'm going to have to regretfully decline." I started to snigger. He must think I'm totally nutzo.

"Well, it has to be your lucky day then, because _I_..._do_ just happen to know all 12 agonizing steps by heart." He stopped and cleared his throat dramatically, then started reciting the steps: "1) We (that would be you)," he explained, pointing a finger at me, "admitted we were powerless over (said addiction), in my mother's case it was alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable...2) We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity... 3) We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him...4) We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves..." He stopped and looked into my eyes. "Should I continue, or can I convince you that coffee has the power to restore us to sanity?" I let out a nervous laugh. "Unless coffee is your addiction, which in that case...you're on your own!"

"Alright you sold me." I sighed. "Where to, boss?"

"It's literally right around the corner." He reassured me, swiftly heading towards the doors. I just followed.

We'd gotten only a few feet away from the hotel when Ben asked the million dollar question.

"So, what's the deal with the 12-steps?" He turned his head towards me and focused in on my face, as if he were sizing me up. "You obviously aren't in a program." He finally concluded. "Otherwise you'd be able to spit them out in your sleep. That's how I know them. When my mom first started she would chant them over and over all night long. I had them memorized in no time, like they were state capitols or something. The funny thing is, she never could do it when she was awake. "

"But she looked so..." I tried to think of the best way to put it. "I would have never in a million years guessed that she had a problem, ever."

"It's called a functioning alcoholic for a reason," he told me flat out. "Besides, being turned was like her get out of jail free card. It knocked out two birds - the cancer and the alcohol addiction - with one bite."

"Oh," I gulped at the thought, biting my lip on accident. "Ouch!"

"I'm sure it didn't hurt that much, but you'd know better than me," he teased, rolling his eyes-knowing that I hadn't been referring to the actual bite. "Now, quit stalling...what's your deal?"

I really didn't want to open up to this somewhat complete stranger - though I had learned a lot about him in just a short time - but then there wasn't really much choice was there. We quickly ordered our coffees and went to sit in a small booth at the back.

"Showtime," he said after we'd gotten situated. That was my cue.

"I sort of, okay I definitely have this tendency to devalue the things in my life," I confessed, reluctantly. "According to the self-help book I checked out from the library, that's part of a thing called self-deprecation. My friend Tara says it all started when my parents died. I was seven." I stopped short and cupped my hand to my mouth. What was I doing? This guy didn't know me well enough to understand. He couldn't. "Listen, my life's really not all that interesting, and I'm sure you don't want to hear about some silly ol barmaid's sob story..."

"If I'm not mistaken, you're doing it again." He pointed out. "You know, the self-deprecating?"

"Damnit! You're right." I cried out disappointedly.

"You're too hard on yourself, Sookie. That is your problem. I can tell that you don't let people in, which I get. Trust me. I've been there. But, sooner or later you'll realize that shutting them out only makes it worse. You can't protect everyone. Some things you just can't avoid or fix." He paused to see if I would respond, but all I could do was nod my head solemnly. He was right.

It was such a weird feeling, sitting here talking with Ben. My whole life I had had instant access into the depths of people's souls, and because of that I'd learned at a very young age that people resented the intrusion. Here I was, finally getting the chance to lay my cards out on the table-not having to fear what he may think, how he might unconsciously judge me-and I appreciated that more that he would ever know.

"You're really good at this ya know." I eventually said, feeling some of the weight I'd been carrying around lift off my shoulders. "I almost feel bad I'm not paying you for this impromptu therapy session."

"It's no big deal. Honestly, it's nice to know that I can help-kinda takes the sting out of letting go of that dream."

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously, seeing the flash of pain sweep across his face.

"That's what I wanted to do-help people like me who didn't exactly have the best role models around-thought I could make a difference. I was a psychology major at St. Louis University...but never finished."

"Why? You would have been so great! What happened?"

"You aren't the only one that has a sob story, Stackhouse."

"Your mom?" I assumed. He had mentioned her quite a bit and from what I'd gathered, growing up with her had never been very Brady-like.

"She's the reason I had to drop out, yea; but, she not why I haven't gone back." He explained. "These past few years have been crazy."

"Tell me." I urged, wanting to be able to return the favor. "Seriously, my whole town refers to me as "Crazy Sookie. I tend to embrace crazy."

He smiled, which was always a good sign, and then scooted a little bit closer. Not creepy close, just I don't want everyone in the room to hear me close.

"Here's the cliff notes version: When I was eight my dad went on his annual fishing trip and never came back. The official report claimed that a flash flood trapped him and his buddy under a collapsed levee - but when they searched for their bodies my dad's was nowhere to be found. Without my dad, mom was never the same. She had worshiped the ground he walked on. Sometimes I could tell she resented me for taking away his undivided attention. Anyways, after that, my mom turned to alcohol and that pretty much sums up the next 10 years . Somewhere in that time I met Elena. I don't know what it was about her, maybe that she'd lost her parents too, but she made all the drama with my mom seem less unbearable. We were happy - she was the one that encouraged me to pursue psychology and we'd even planned to go to SLU together after graduation -that was until she met Damon. I later found out he was a vampire, but that is besides the point. If you haven't already guessed, Elena and I broke up a few months later. I know she didn't do it maliciously, I know she still loved me at the time, but even I could see that they had this oddly intimate connection - something we would never share. If my mom hadn't been diagnosed with stage IV liver cancer the following semester, I may have continued to dwell on that failed relationship. A few months into my mom's treatment, things started to get pretty bizarre. I kept noticing this guy pop up everywhere I went. He never spoke to me, he'd just watch me. It started to freak me out, but he looked like he was about a billion years old - long white-gold hair and totally Lord of the Rings- esqe - so I never confronted him. Elena must have found out about my mom somehow, because that's when she approached me out of the blue with her new "vampire" boyfriend - yea, that convo was a doozy - begging me to let them help. Of course I thought she was full of shit at first, who wouldn't? Damon and Alisdar - who I met soon after - both went out during the daytime. Given all I knew about vampires at the time, which I'll admit was limited, it seemed impossible."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to cut you off in the middle of your story," I interrupted him timidly. "But, did you just say these two vampires are actual day-walkers? How is that possible?"

"Exactly." He exclaimed. "I didn't think it was, but then they showed me all that they can do...the speed, the mind control, the strength. I obviously recognized the killing part but they didn't actually show me that. To answer your question though, they are able to be out in the sun as part of some voodoo, witch/fairy-shit, I dunno, it has something to do with these rings they wear. I've never really asked Alisdar about it because it's his business, not mine."

I gulped at his mention of the fae, but it could have been mere coincidence, or just his misguided assumption of fae and witch magic. I decided to let it go and suggested he go on.

"In any case, I decided to take them up on their offer to turn my mom. I couldn't really explain the situation to her at the time, she was drugged up beyond belief, but I knew without a doubt that she would give anything to take back the last ten years and start over. It was pretty incredible to see the transformation. Like you saw, she's happy again, and I'm just glad to have my mom back."

"So that sounds like everything worked out then, in the end." I said cheerfully. "And, you could still go back and finish your degree if you wanted?"

"Let me ask you this. You said your parents died when you were young?"

"Yes." I replied emphatically.

"Well, say you found out that there was a chance that they were still alive, that for some reason they made a conscious decision to, for lack of better word, disappear. Would you, could you, go on living without knowing the truth?" Apparently it was a hypothetical question because he didn't wait long to answer it himself. "I can't."

"Yea, I get that." I told him sympathetically. "But, why do you all of a sudden think he might still be alive?"

"Remember that strange old guy I said had been following me around?"

"Yea."

"A few months ago Alisdar arranged a get-together for me to meet him. It was completely awkward. He claimed to be related to me somehow - I didn't really get the details, I honestly didn't believe him - but he said he couldn't leave without me knowing how much my dad loves me."

"And..."

"He said specifically that he loves me, not loved me. Present tense."

"It could have been a simple mistake. I'm not saying you're wrong, just saying, is it possible he just misspoke?"

"Eh, of course I considered that, but something tells me this guy just doesn't make mistakes."

I nodded. For some reason I knew exactly what he meant. "Did you ever catch his name?"

"He said it real quickly in the beginning but I couldn't make it out. Sounded foreign, Celtic maybe? I guess that would make sense since my dad's side was Irish."

This was getting less coincidental by the minute. "What about your grandparents?"

"He was in the system - foster system - most his life. I don't think he ever really knew them. I've got this picture of his mom that he used to carry around." He pulled his wallet out and handed me the tattered square. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Um..." I gulped, staring at the woman in the photograph. She looked practically identical to Claudine. I flipped it over to the back, speechless after noticing the inscription:

_"Do mo mhac beloved ... Nuair a fhéachann tú ar an spéir, nó a bhraitheann na gréine ar do chraiceann, Tá a fhios beidh mé libh i gcónaí " - Cliona Brigant-Lùcais _

_

* * *

**A/N: So, what did ya think? I know there wasn't a whole lot of closure on the Ocella/Rhea issue but it is coming. Promise. I started this chapter with the intention to cover that and then it just evolved and didn't make sense. I hope this chapter helped to show where Pam is coming from with certain things, and Sookie's struggle (as much as she drives me nuts, I think she's got some serious self-worth issues she needs to work out before she'll be happy with Eric). This chapter was longer than usual. Like I said it took a life of its own. I hope you like these new developments. Next chapter, Sookie and Pam will get back on the road to Chicago.**_

**- A few things. "Looking for some totty" is British slang for trying to pick up women. Alisdar is of Tartessian (700 - 500 B.C. Southwestern Spain and Southern Portugal) decent; their language is an extinct pre-Roman language once spoken in southern Iberia and has recently been classified as a Celtic language - possibly the first. "Lady Beaverland" another term for the female anatomy. Baphomet is a synonym of Satan or a demon, a member of the hierarchy of Hell. It is linked to the Knights Templar - a revival occurred in 19th century Britain (which is why Pam would reference it).**

**The inscription translates from Irish to English as: To my beloved son ... When you look at the sky, or feel the sun on your skin, know I'll be with you always.**

**Ben is 1/8 fae as is Sookie, just from a different line of Niall's descendents. He is actually another generation removed from Niall because he is descended from Dillion (Son of Niall and Branna - a full fairy). Dillion and Binne (both full fae) are the parents of Claude, Claudine and Claudette. Binne — (from Old Irish binn means "sweet, melodious" and was the name of several fairy women in legend.**

**In my story, Dillion and a human woman, Eibhilín — meaning "pleasant, beautiful, radiant."; from the French Aveline, brought by the Anglo-Normans, and very popular among the Middle Ages' nobility - conceived Cliona, who is the mother of Ben's father, Moesen - meaning "saved from the water." Cliona and the triplet's are half-siblings (through Dillion) and all resemble their grandmother Branna - name meaning "dark as raven."**


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